


Room A Thousand Years Wide

by MittenWraith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester, M/M, mention of pre-relationship Sam/Rowena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: Once the world and their lives are finally their own, and Cas has chosen humanity once and for all, he begins to find a new routine of daily life with Dean. Sam doesn't know how much longer he can take their apparently oblivious platonic domesticity, when their regularly scheduled evening goes out the window with a single text message from someone they never expected to hear from again. Ex-Ghostfacer Ed Zeddmore is afraid he's stumbled over something too big to let slide, and sends them a link to a potentially dangerous Ghostfacer wannabe, and a case that isn't at all what it appears to be on the surface. What they uncover dredges up a lot of interesting feelings all around, and they must finally face a few ghosts of their own.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 90
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Long time no fic, right? Well, this was supposed to be my entry for the dcbb this year, but I completely failed to make the draft deadline (thanks, pandemic). But I've finally finished it, and it's ready to post! *blows party horn through face mask in a socially distanced fashion*
> 
> This was intended to be set in a post-canon world, assuming that canon would be complete long before I finished writing it. I think not having an ending to the series also threw me off while writing it, since I'd intended to incorporate the *actual* status of the end of the series into this work (or otherwise completely tossed it out, depending on how it will actually end) :'D So this story exists in a weird limbo of headcanon land somewhere near the end of s15, imagining how I would LIKE the series to end, despite having no idea whatever if I'm even remotely close. But that's what fic is, right? *looks at canon* *frowns* *throws canon out the window*
> 
> I hope everyone still enjoys it!

Dean brought in the last bag of groceries and contemplated their dinner options as he put everything away. Their errands had taken longer than he’d hoped, what with a newly fallen angel needing such mundane things as socks and t-shirts and pajamas along for the ride. Who could’ve predicted it would take that long for Cas to choose a few pairs of underpants from the seemingly endless variety available at Target? But Dean had to concede that these were important choices. Now that all their choices truly were their own, even decisions as trifling as boxers versus briefs took on an entirely new weight.

Cas had undertaken the entire outing with the gravity of a solemn duty. He’d been getting by wearing Dean’s clothes, mostly, for the last few weeks, but now that they’d all had time to settle into the new reality of their lives, Dean had figured it was about time for Cas to pick out some of his own. He’d patted Cas on the shoulder as he’d finished his breakfast that morning and cheerfully announced that they could make an outing of it while they were driving all the way up to Henderson for groceries and supplies anyway. Any excuse to spend the whole day alone with Cas doing something other than killing things or clearing out yet another storage closet at the bunker. Sometimes those were not mutually exclusive activities. Shopping for Cas had the potential to be purely fun.

While he’d run the gamut of emotions by Cas’s side as he slowly assembled his wardrobe for his new life, Dean was now left with a dilemma. The longer the trip had taken, the more potential dinner options he’d crossed off his mental checklist. Lasagna, pot roast with all the trimmings, homemade chicken soup and a big crusty loaf of bread-- they were all delicious and comforting, but also labor intensive and time consuming. They still bought everything he'd need to make any of those options, but he loaded up their grocery bags with the understanding that all of it would have to wait. Dean was already worn out from their long day and wanted to eat before midnight, so with a dissatisfied grumble he turned on the oven and pulled out a couple of frozen pizzas. He stuck them in the oven and gave his fully stocked refrigerator a longing glance as he popped open a beer and kicked up his feet to wait. Not two minutes later he heard an unfamiliar shuffling sound coming down the hallway, and grinned around a gulp of beer knowing exactly what was headed his way. He stifled the grin and turned to the door just in time to see Cas carefully navigating down the steps into the kitchen in his new slippers.

“I see you made yourself comfortable,” Dean said as Cas released the door frame, now confident the slippers wouldn’t pop off his feet if he lifted them too far off the floor. “The slippers look pretty cozy.”

Cas looked down at the fluffy bunny faces smiling from his toes and grinned up at Dean. “They take a bit of getting used to.”

Dean shrugged, kicking his boot-clad feet to the floor and standing up. “Beats the hell out of wearing boots when you don’t have to, right?”

“They are far softer than boots, yes. I intended to help you with the groceries. I suppose I’m too late for that,” Cas said, looking around the kitchen and then sniffing the air. “Are you making pizza? What happened to all the grand dinner plans you regaled me with this afternoon?”

“Most of that shit takes half a day to prepare. We’ll do something better tomorrow,” Dean replied, strolling over to check the timer on the pizzas. “And don’t worry about it. You had enough of your own stuff to deal with. You get everything put away?”

Cas ran his hands down the thighs of the soft fleecy lounge pants he’d picked out and smiled at Dean. “I did. I couldn’t resist changing into something more comfortable.”

Dean turned his back, using the excuse of getting Cas a beer so he wouldn’t see the dopey grin on Dean’s face. He opened the bottle and slid it across the counter to Cas, who just stood there looking pleased with everything. He took a sip of his drink and then leveled Dean with an earnest look.

“Thank you again, Dean. I know you had other plans for today, but I appreciate what you did for me.”

“Hey, the only other thing I had planned was dinner,” Dean replied. The timer dinged, and he grinned at Cas before opening the oven and sliding the pizzas out. “And look at that, we have dinner.”

“Still, I know I didn’t make things easy on you today.”

Dean snorted and dug through the drawer for the pizza cutter. “You had a lot of important decisions to make for the first time. I was just glad you found stuff you like.”

He thought back to one particularly fluffy sweater Cas had fallen in love with, but debated over whether or not to buy. It was pricier than anything else they’d looked at, and wasn’t what he referred to as _practical attire for hunting._ Dean had told him that not everything had to be practical if he really wanted it, if it would make him happy, and that had sealed the deal. It was worth it for the look of pure joy that spread over Cas’s face as he hugged the sweater to his chest and dropped it in their cart. That indulgence led directly to the purchase of the fluffy bunny slippers now on Cas’s feet.

“What about Sam?” Cas asked, fidgeting with his bottle and attempting to appear nonchalant. “Will he still be joining us, even if he might not be impressed with the meal after you spent the morning hyping up a big home cooked dinner?”

“Sam will show up any minute now, and he’ll be fine with it,” Dean replied, then quieter added, “I swear, Cas. I’m not backing out now.”

Cas smiled at him, and Dean did his best to smile back. He sliced the pizzas and they sat down at the table to eat. It wasn’t long before Sam wandered in, lured by the aroma. He stopped in the doorway for a moment and frowned at their heat and serve dinner.

“I thought we were having lasagna?” he said, resigning himself to pizza instead and grabbing a plate.

“I got you a rabbit food pizza with all the vegetables on it, but we had a lot of shopping to do. Ran out of time for actual cooking,” Dean said, before taking another bite of his meat-laden monstrosity.

“I got new slippers,” Cas added, sticking a foot out to show Sam.

Sam blinked, registering the fluffy bunny and its perky little ears before finally noticing everything else Cas was wearing.

“Oh, nice,” he replied, giving Cas a genuine smile and happily joining them at the table. “Definitely worth a frozen pizza or two. Good choice.”

Sam recounted his afternoon spent digging through the archives looking for information to help another hunter out with a difficult case. In the process, Sam had discovered a shelf of curse boxes he thought would make a good project for the weekend.

“When the Men of Letters locked half that stuff up, they had no idea how to break the curses, but the three of us could probably take care of all of them in a couple of days, easy.”

Dean laughed at that, remembering their first run in with a curse box, and that ugly-ass rabbit’s foot. Sam grimaced, likely recalling the same events, and Dean only laughed harder, prompting Cas to ask what was so funny. Recounting the experience and Sam's ill-fated string of catastrophic luck filled a solid half hour, when Sam retaliated with a reminder of the ballet slippers that had come way too close to snaring Dean into Swan Laking himself to death. They’d nearly solidified a plan for tackling whatever evils lurked in those boxes when Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Sam gave him a curious look as he got up to clear the table, but Dean was too busy frowning down at the odd message.

_ >>Dean, this is Ed Zeddmore. You don’t wanna know what I went through to get this number, but I need your help. I think there’s something seriously wrong. Watch this video and then get back to me. _

“Dean, is everything okay?” Cas asked after a few moments.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. You remember the Ghostfacers?”

Sam gave a pained groan as he set their dishes down in the sink. “Please tell me they’re not making videos again.”

“Well Ed sent me a link to a video, but he says he needs our help with something.”

Sam abandoned the dishes to their soapy bath and came back to the table, trying to get a peek at Dean’s phone. “Did he get in over his head on another ghost hunt?”

Dean gave himself a moment to work through the full body eye roll and psych himself up for whatever Ed considered _seriously wrong_. It couldn’t be worse than that whole Thin Man fiasco. At least, Dean hoped Ed had learned his lesson about faking supernatural shit for fun and profit. He heaved a huge sigh as Cas shuffled around the table to watch over his other shoulder, and then clicked the link to the video.

“Unnatural Evil?” Sam said with a scoff as the title credits rolled and the kitchen filled with jangling, unsettling music.

“Yeah, like there’s any other kind of evil,” Dean muttered, watching the cheesy montage of scenes from the show as the cast was introduced, captured in freeze frame while blood red oozing lettering revealed the stars’ names.

A woman screamed before being caught in an unflattering freeze frame and identified as Lorna. Next up in the montage were two camera operators, Zane and Davis, labeled in the same horror font. Finally, a slightly older and supremely creepy man dressed all in black with slicked-back hair and an oversized bejeweled cross hanging around his neck appeared on screen as the music faded out into a haunting laugh. The dripping red lettering introduced him as Wulf, and further gave him the title of Demonologist and Medium as a lighting shift made the man seem to grow to fill the entire screen with his sinister smirk.

“Is this dude for real?” Dean asked.

“He looks like he raided Dracula’s closet,” Sam replied, repressing a giggle. “From the 70’s.”

“He looks like Anton Lavey in a bad toupee,” Dean added.

“At least Ed’s not in the credits,” Sam said as discount Anton Lavey strolled toward the camera through a foggy, backlit graveyard and began introducing the episode.

_Tonight on Unnatural Evil, we’ll delve into the mystery of a long-abandoned settlement in the West Virginia woods. What led this pastoral community to be abandoned? Was it simply a shift in the local economy, or have we stumbled through a portal into another realm cursed by Unnatural Evil?_

“This man is rather melodramatic,” Cas said, frowning at the screen. “Why did Ed send this to you? Is he hoping for a critique?”

Dean shifted in his seat, settling in to at least watch the full thirty minutes, hoping something interesting would actually happen. These ghost hunter shows were a dime a dozen nowadays, and he had yet to see one actually uncover a real haunting. Well, other than that one Ghostfacers episode he’d unfortunately had to trash.

Unnatural Evil didn’t start out any different. The team explored a dilapidated settlement in a wooded valley-- not much more than a few ramshackle cabins, mostly reclaimed by the forest. It looked like nobody had lived there in at least a few decades, which Lorna confirmed as she recounted the history of the community. She mentioned several unexplained deaths, a blight on the land-- which had all of them snorting just looking at the lush vegetation swallowing the handful of buildings-- and the lingering cloud of suspicion that followed the only residents to escape the settlement for the rest of their lives.

“Wait,” Cas said. “Rewind it a bit. Look at the ground behind Wulf as the camera moves past him.”

Dean groaned but did as Cas asked. He had to admit he was zoning out a bit. Nothing had actually happened in the ten minutes they’d been watching, and he’d rather have been doing pretty much anything else at that point. He still had a few shopping bags of his own to unpack, new socks to sort... uncomfortable conversations to have. He rewound it to the right spot and then paused it, trying to zoom in on the dirt road behind Wulf. He wished his phone screen were bigger and wondered if it was too late to make Sam run and grab his laptop.

“Is he… Is he setting up a summoning ritual?” Sam asked, incredulous.

Cas nodded and took the phone from Dean’s hand, holding it close to his face and squinting at the blurry image. “He’s setting up something.”

“Well we can keep watching and maybe learn what he’s doing,” Dean replied, holding out his hand for his phone and hitting play again when Cas returned it.

The sun went down, and the crew set up for night shooting. Flashlights, night vision cameras that made everyone’s eyes glow a little too much for comfort, and an ominous soundtrack behind hushed voices established the standard ghost hunter reality show ambiance. Wulf performed some sort of ritual, tossing a handful of random herbs above a candle that he explained would protect them from harm as they explored the ruins. It looked like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to Dean. He looked to Cas, and then to Sam in case either of them recognized what he was doing, but they both looked as confused as he felt. At least that was reassuring.

The team split up, one cameraman following Lorna and the other following Wulf, alternating between each of them calling out to the spirits of the town to make themselves known. The first spirit that announced its presence was an angry opossum who fled from Lorna’s flashlight beam amidst some shaky camera work.

“The production value on these things always sucks,” Dean muttered, reaching for whatever was left of his beer. “I have yet to meet a single one of these idiots I’d trust with a gun on a real hunt.”

A few second-rate jump scares from Lorna and a bunch of Latin that Sam and Cas both confirmed was a load of gibberish from Wulf later, something truly interesting finally happened. Something flickered for a moment inside the crumbling doorway to one of the abandoned cabins. For just a second, in a flash of green-tinged night vision, Wulf’s eyes opened wide and seemed to flash black. It could’ve just been a trick of the light, but the cameraman was too busy refocusing on the action to linger on his boss. Instead, he zoomed in on the doorway and followed Wulf as he approached the apparition.

“We mean you no harm,” Wulf said to the empty space. “We want to know your story. What tragedy befell this place? What has trapped you here?”

“The temperature’s dropped fifteen degrees,” the cameraman said, holding up one of those scanning thermometers in front of the lens and taking several readings to prove there was definitely a cold spot just inside the door.

The camera went all glitchy and staticky for a few seconds, and then resolved just in time to catch what appeared to be a death echo’s final moments of terror. Dean paused the video and backed it up a couple of frames so they could get the clearest picture possible. Captured in the eerie greenish glow was a woman blocking her face with her arms as she was attacked. She crumpled to the ground, fending off her unseen assailant until she succumbed and disappeared completely. Wulf stepped in front of the camera looking grim, yet still somehow smugly pleased with himself as he began to explain what he’d witnessed, and what he believed it meant.

He wove a tale of treachery and murder based on the scant historical facts that Lorna had detailed at the beginning of the show, before turning back to the house and reciting a bit of flashy-sounding Latin. As his incantation came to a close, he thrust both hands out toward the decrepit building. As if on cue, a ceiling beam came crashing down, forcing the cameraman to take a few stumbling steps backward to escape the falling debris. When he managed to refocus on Wulf, he was still standing there by the doorway, smiling serenely down at the camera.

“Her soul has been released from this terrible place, and I believe our job here is done.”

Sam, Dean and Cas sat there blinking at the screen as Lorna and her cameraman ran up to the scene of destruction and the closing credits rolled.

“Well that was certainly something,” Sam said.

“Yes, something other than an exorcism,” Cas added, frowning up at Dean.

Dean just shook his head and set his phone down. “It was either an elaborate hoax, or Wulf there’s got a lot more going on than he’s telling the audience.”

“Or even his crew,” Sam said, grumbling. “What the hell does Ed want us to do about it?”

“Guess we should ask him,” Dean replied, picking up his phone. It felt like the sort of thing that would be easier handled over the phone, rather than texting. Not that Dean was particularly thrilled about having to talk to the guy, but he was asking for their help for once instead of just blundering into a dangerous situation he had no idea how to handle. Or worse, being the direct cause of the situation. He had to admit it was a refreshing change. He heaved a sigh, rolled his eyes, and called Ed.

“Dean, thanks for getting back to me so quickly,” Ed said, sounding more professional than he ever had. “I take it you watched the video?”

Dean uncharitably wondered if he’d spent the last half hour rehearsing that line, before switching it to speakerphone and setting his phone on the table.

“Yeah, we watched it.”

Ed blew out a breath, and then launched into his prepared spiel. “I heard about these guys a couple months back and laughed it off. I only ran across their videos again a few days ago. Trust me when I tell you they’re all pretty much along the same vein as what you saw, and I’m not laughing anymore. They travel to abandoned places like that, conjure up a death echo or something similar, and then Wulf takes it out.”

“And you’re sure they’re conjuring these manifestations?” Cas asked.

Ed didn’t reply right away, so Dean spoke again. “Yeah, that’s Cas. You’re on speaker, and Sam’s here too.”

“Ah, hey Sam.”

“Hi. So what has you so worried?”

Dean gave Sam a grateful look for getting things right to the point.

“At first I thought they were faking everything--”

“Like you used to?” Dean said, cutting him off.

“Um, yeah, fine. Like I used to,” Ed replied with a sigh before going on the defensive. “And there’s no harm done if they were. A few lights, a couple of small explosive charges hidden around to take out a collapsing shack in the woods, and people are entertained. If that’s how this guy wants to earn a few bucks, more power to him. But, uh… then I saw the death echo and it brought me back to the Morton house. That wasn’t fake. And waving your hands around and telling a death echo to leave, that’s not gonna do shit. No salt and burn, nothing. Ghosts don’t just pick up and leave because you mumble some broken Latin at them. So I started looking deeper. The more I learned, the fishier this guy looks.”

“You mean the Vincent Price wannabe?” Dean asked.

“Wulf Carradine,” Ed replied. “Or that’s what he calls himself. He doesn’t exist on paper. That search was a dead end, so I looked into the town they supposedly exorcised, or whatever. Turns out it was all faked. The buildings were real, but they’d been built as a temporary outpost for railroad employees surveying the local area until they decided to build the tracks through the next valley over. Only a handful of people ever lived there for less than a year, and none of them were women. There was no tragic history of murder and mayhem associated with the place. So whoever that death echo was, she didn’t get there on her own.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment trying to process all of that. The Morton House wasn’t a case he thought back to with much fondness. Sure the whole Ghostfacers show hadn’t been half bad, but the fact those idiots nearly got Sam killed, on top of the fact it was just a few months before the hellhounds came to drag him to Hell placed it firmly in the _do not think about it_ file. With good reason. He quietly hoped that Ed’s research skills had improved in the intervening decade since then and chose to focus on the facts at hand.

“And you’re sure it’s a death echo, and not some sort of CGI?” he asked.

Ed was quiet for a moment, but undeterred. “I think it was a ghost of some sort. All I know is, whoever it was didn’t die there.”

“You don’t think some bored psycho could’ve found a bunch of abandoned cabins in the woods and turned it into his own personal murder playground?” Dean asked.

Sam glared at him, but also conceded the point. “What Dean’s trying to say is that just because they found a ghost in the woods and made up a scary story for the show doesn’t mean there wasn’t actually a ghost there. Sometimes the official records just don’t cover that shit.”

“I considered that,” Ed replied, undeterred. “And maybe that’s true, but that still doesn’t explain that banishing ritual. Or Wulf himself.” Ed went quiet for a moment and then added, “Did you notice his eyes?”

Dean shifted in his seat and glanced at Cas. It was Cas who answered, though, which was reassuring that he noticed something hinky too, and Dean wasn’t just seeing things.

“There was just a moment where the reflection in his eyes disappeared without explanation. It’s difficult to tell in such low light, but it appeared that his eyes flashed black.”

“Dammit, that’s what I was afraid you’d say,” Ed replied, accompanied by a banging sound that Dean guessed was Ed slamming his hand on something. Or maybe his forehead. He heaved a sigh and pressed on. “That’s why I spent half a day tracking down this number. It’s why I sent you this dumb video out of all the dumb videos these guys have made. It’s the only one where you can see that happen. And I figured, out of all my contacts, you’d probably know what it meant.”

The three of them sat there exchanging uncomfortable glances over first off Ed considering them _among his_ _contacts_ , and secondly the fact that Ed, of all people, would’ve noticed a split-second flash of what may or may not have been demon black eyes. Not to mention the fact that he somehow knew that _they_ would know what demon black eyes even were. Dean eventually blew out a breath, shrugged, and then acted as their spokesman.

“Well, today has officially taken a turn for the surreal. Okay, Ed. You got our attention. Now what do you want us to do about it?”

“So you’ll help?” Ed asked, sounding only a little bit eager and not entirely desperate.

“We’re not entirely sure what you need help with,” Sam said. “But we’ll do what we can to help, yeah,” he added, giving Dean an apologetic shrug for volunteering them for this mystery project.

“Okay, wow, that was a lot easier than I was expecting,” Ed replied, half to himself and half to them, accompanied by the sound of rustling papers and a clattering noise as he dropped his phone and scooped it back up again. “Sorry, sorry. I, uh-- here we are. I got a copy of some paperwork they filed for their next shoot. They actually bothered to get official permission from the county. The grapevine says you guys have a Batcave somewhere in central Kansas.”

Dean snorted. “Grapevine?”

“Hunters,” Ed replied, matter of factly. “You know how they are. Anyway, they’re planning to shoot an episode near the geographical center of the US this weekend, and if you’re in Kansas, it wouldn’t even be that bad a drive.”

“It wouldn’t even be that long a walk,” Cas said, and Dean gave him a funny look.

“Oh, uh, well that sounds convenient,” Ed said. “So you guys are in Lebanon? Would you maybe want to meet up and I can show you what I have in person? I’m staying at a campground a few miles outside of town.”

Dean gave Sam a critical look, engaging in a silent debate over whether or not to reveal the existence of the bunker to Ed freaking Zeddmore. It was probably an open secret in hunter circles, and if he had any dealings at all with other hunters, he’d at least heard rumors of the place. And he had called them for help, after everything else he’d put them through in the past. It didn’t seem like he was lying or trying to screw them over again. After a few moments of dramatic eyebrow conversation, Sam held up his hands and resigned from the debate. Dean turned to Cas, who was merely watching on with interest. Dean scrubbed his hand over his face and made the decision for all of them.

“You might as well come to us, then. It’ll save you having to sleep in your van, at least. I’ll text you the address, and we’ll meet you outside. Parking’s a little tricky.”

“Wow, okay, invite to the Batcave. I’ll be there as soon as I can pull up stakes.”

“Okay then,” Dean replied, and then hung up with a dejected sigh. “So I guess that pushes our plan to tackle the curse boxes off for another day.”

“Don’t even try to pretend you’re mad about that,” Sam said, standing up to finish doing the dishes.

“Yeah, well, Cas wanted to watch this show about human evolution tonight, right Cas?” Dean turned to him and waited for an answer.

Cas raised an eyebrow and stared at Dean for a moment. “I’m sure they’ll rerun it sometime in the next week.”

Dean stared back until Cas amended his statement and steered the conversation in a more practical direction.

“You should text Ed the address before he begins to think you were lying to him.”

Dean blinked, grumbled under his breath, but did as Cas suggested. He tacked on a note to Ed that he’d probably be safer parking his bigass van down on the street and walking up the hill. There wasn’t exactly an easy turnaround spot for behemoth vehicles, and backing anything bigger than the Impala down the hill was treacherous at best. He should know, from that time he rented a U-Haul to bring in the jukebox.

That task accomplished, it was Sam’s turn to redirect the conversation yet again.

“So what do you think Ed’s been up to. We haven’t seen him in at least five or six years now. You think he’s still Ghostfacing?”

“I’m more interested in who gave him my number,” Dean replied.

Sam just shrugged. “We can’t possibly be the only hunters he’s run across by now if he kept looking for ghosts. From the sound of it, I don’t think Harry’s still with him.”

Dean shook his head and stood up, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Probably for the best. Guy almost got himself killed by a made-up boogeyman.”

Cas just gave him a confused look and followed Dean out of the kitchen. They were halfway up the stairs to the front door before Dean looked back and remembered Cas’s slippers.

“You sure you wanna wear the bunnies outside?” Dean asked, but kept climbing so he’d have a reason to hide his bemused grin from Cas. “You just got ‘em, you probably don’t want their fur getting all muddy.”

Cas considered this as he climbed, and stepped out of the bunny slippers when they reached the landing in front of the outside door. He bent over to set them off to the side, just inside the door, and Dean frowned down at his bare feet.

“I don’t know if it’s worse walking around out there without any shoes at all.”

“It’s not cold outside. It shouldn’t be an issue. But you’re right. The bunnies are for indoor use only. I’d rather not damage them walking on gravel and dirt.”

Sam caught up to them just as Dean opened the door. He frowned at Dean upon seeing the slippers on the landing, but Dean just shrugged as he stepped outside. They were just in time to see Ed’s van slowly cruise to a stop at the foot of the bunker’s access road. At least, they assumed it was his van. The Ghostfacers logo had been painted over and the entire van was now a nondescript solid black. Dean gave it an assessing little frown before heading off down the hill to meet Ed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was halfway down the hill when Ed finally spotted him. He saw Ed blow out a sigh of relief before shutting off the engine, grabbing a backpack off the passenger seat, and climbing out of the van.

“Wasn’t sure this was the right place,” Ed said, hefting his bag over his shoulder and then reaching back into the van for a handful of various electrical cables. He glanced up at Dean across the hood and shook his head. “It looks like it was abandoned sometime during the Cold War.”

“You’re not too far off, actually,” Sam said, stopping beside Dean. “It was shuttered for more than fifty years before we found it again.”

“You guys really that hard up for headquarters that you’d settle for an abandoned factory before getting yourself a sweet ride like this?” Ed said, patting the side of his van before patting himself down to make sure he had everything he’d likely need and then shutting the door. He looked up and finally noticed Cas standing there, as well. He blinked, then shook his head. “I remember you.”

Cas just smiled at him. “Yes. I’d appreciate not being sprayed with water this time.”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “You’re not gonna randomly pop up all over the place, are you?”

Cas shook his head. “I’m human now. I lost my wings years ago.”

Dean and Sam both exchanged a confused glance before looking to Cas for further information. He made a slightly pained sound, rolled his eyes, and sighed. 

“When I was still on Heaven’s payroll, I was tasked with informing certain people of the coming apocalypse. Ed happened to be one of them. He refused to believe me.”

“In my defense, it was a lot to take in all at once like that,” Ed said, looking uncomfortable. “Some guy pops into your house claiming to be an angel, telling you the apocalypse has begun and you’re supposed to bear witness, whatever the fuck that meant. It’s not like there’s a manual on how to cope with learning you’re living through the apocalypse.”

“I understand it must’ve been a difficult experience for you,” Cas replied.

“Difficult for _him?_ Dude,” Dean said, shaking his head at Cas. “The apocalypse was difficult for _us_.”

“You shattered my Shatner!”

“I did eventually repair it.” 

“You what?” Sam asked, before waving a hand in hopes of cancelling the entire conversation.

Dean cut in and stopped the whole thing in its tracks. “The apocalypse is dead, we killed it. Enough said. Really. We’re all on the same side here, and Cas is family. We good?”

Dean’s summary seemed to satisfy Ed, and he finally stepped out from behind the van so everyone could get a good look at him. He was dressed like a real hunter for once. The hipster filmmaker wannabe look had been replaced with heavy hiking boots, jeans, and a battered but sturdy canvas jacket. He shifted his backpack and gave them all a once-over before glancing up the hill at the imposing building standing dark and looming above them.

“So do we just go in the front door, or is there a secret Bat Entrance?”

“The secret entrance is around the back. Not sure if your van’s got roof clearance to get in that way,” Dean said.

Ed blinked at him, but followed as Dean turned and headed back up the hill. “Okay, then.”

“So you said you got Dean’s number from a hunter?” Sam asked. It was probably a good place to begin, at least enough to fill the uncomfortable silence in Dean’s wake.

“Yeah, ever since the band broke up, I’ve been reassessing my life choices. You know, when Harry and I started, we just wanted to prove to the world that ghosts were real, that there was something more out there that most people never noticed. We thought if we could catch a ghost on film, nobody would doubt it. We just wanted to open people’s eyes to reality. And then it stopped being about proof, and started to be about us. Fame, fortune, celebrity-- we stopped caring about the reality of what we were looking for. Even after Corbett...” he said, trailing off for a moment and clearing his throat. “Even after the Morton House ordeal, I was more upset we lost the footage than the fact we all could’ve died. I had no idea about what I was trying to expose to the world actually meant. And how much of it was really out there.”

Dean started down the steps toward the door and turned to Ed with a smirk. “You saying you learned your lesson?”

Ed gave him a grave look and nodded. “Yeah, since Harry went back to his normal, safe life, I’ve been out on my own. It wasn’t long before I started meeting other hunters and had my eyes opened to what you guys really do.”

“You’re not thinking about making a reality show about hunters, are you?” Dean asked with a hand on the doorknob, waiting for Ed’s answer.

“Oh, hell, no,” Ed replied. “I’ve spent the last six years hunting.”

“On your own?” Sam asked.

Ed shrugged. “Mostly. My sister helps out with research occasionally, and I’ve teamed up with other hunters here and there. Still got the camera equipment, though. You would not _believe_ how many people are willing to talk to a guy pretending to be an investigative journalist or a historian making a documentary. It opens a lot of doors. But I mostly handle vengeful spirits. I’ve run across the occasional ghoul. Helped a guy out with a shapeshifter once.” Ed shuddered at the memory, and Dean completely sympathized.

“Yeah, those things are disgusting. Just wait until you gotta kill one wearing your own face.”

“I think I’ll take a pass on that experience,” Ed replied.

Dean grinned at him and opened the door, then led the way down the stairs through the dim, grey entryway. Cas stopped on the landing long enough to slide his feet back into his bunny slippers before continuing down the stairs after Dean. Ed paused and watched him for a moment before turning to Sam for an explanation. Sam just shrugged and waved a hand for Ed to go on while he shut and locked the door.

“So this is kinda grim,” Ed commented. “What is this, some sort of WPA bunker?”

“That’s what it’s supposed to look like, I think,” Sam replied. “That’s the era it was built, but it was never anything but a very specifically purpose built place, and it had nothing to do with the government.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, stopping at the inner door and waiting for Ed to arrive so he could fully appreciate the grand reveal. He flung the door wide and let Ed soak in the bunker. “Welcome to the Men of Letters.”

Ed stood there and blinked for a second, turned around and frowned at the deceptively utilitarian entryway, and then slowly stepped out onto the landing to get a better look inside.

“What the actual fuck?” he muttered, and Dean just shook his head and laughed as he walked past their dazed visitor and jogged down the steps.

“You might as well come downstairs,” Cas told Ed as he followed after Dean, taking the stairs at a slower rate, still unsure of his footing in his new slippers.

“That’s about the reaction we had when we found this place.”

Ed turned to Sam, who stood there grinning at him. “And it was just… like this? How the fuck did you even know it was here?”

“Long story short, our grandfather gave us the key.”

“And what, you just had it stashed in a drawer or something?”

Sam gave him an assessing look. “You really want the long version of the story? It involves time travel, demons, and another borderline apocalypse.”

Ed opened and closed his mouth a couple times, shook his head, and started down the stairs. “Uh, I think I’ve got enough potential demons on my plate at the moment. Maybe later.”

“Good call,” Sam muttered. “So about your case. Out of all the hunters you know, you sought us out specifically.”

Ed shrugged his backpack off and set it on the war room table, still looking around trying to absorb everything in the room. Dean brought a round of beer from the fridge in the library and set one on the table in front of Ed, startling him back to the present.

Ed snorted out a laugh and popped off the cap of his beer with a nod at Dean. “Thanks for this.” He chugged down a gulp and slumped down in the nearest chair. “Well, for starters, you’re the only hunters I know of with an actual Batcave. I mean, I’d heard rumors, but this is just ridiculous.” He waved his bottle around the room and then took another gulp of beer.

Sam sat down across from him, and Cas sat at the head of the table beside Dean, who kicked his feet up on the map table and leaned back.

“You ain’t seen the half of it, buddy,” Dean said with a smirk.

Cas added, “He’s right. We’ve been here almost eight years, and we likely haven’t explored the full extent of it yet.”

“Took us four months to find the garage,” Dean added.

“Right,” Ed said, glancing between them and then turning back to Sam. “Well, like I was saying, mostly I handle vengeful spirits, poltergeists. Straightforward stuff like that I can deal with on my own. I only know a handful of hunters who won’t run screaming from the room if you start talking about demons, and most of them have you guys on speed dial for when things get that heavy.”

Sam frowned at that. “We don’t get a lot of calls for help with demons.”

Ed just shrugged. “Like I said, there’s not a heck of a lot of demon trouble nowadays. You guys handle most of it yourselves, and a few other hunters that are apparently pretty reclusive take care of the rest. The rest of us mostly have our specialties, and we stick to what we know. Demon cases don’t even really hit our radar most of the time.”

“Okay, so then why the sudden obsession with the shady, turtleneck-wearing version of you?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ed sighed, set his beer down, stood up and took off his jacket. “Look, I get it. I was a douche. I was everything a hunter isn’t. But I’ve had plenty of time to grow up here, and I’m not that guy anymore.”

Everyone’s eyes went wide when they got a look at Ed underneath the heavy jacket. Hunter or not, he was absolutely not the weaselly, out of shape little dude they’d met in the past. He’d blend right in with every scrappy hunter they’d ever had the pleasure of working with. From the way he stood looming over Dean, Dean was fairly sure Ed would hold his own against him in a fair fight. And from the knife handle peeking out of his belt, Dean also suspected Ed was perfectly prepared for an unfair fight, too.

Dean gave him a minute and then nodded. “Okay, then.”

“No more cracks at my idiotically misspent youth?” Ed asked without budging. “Did I finally manage to prove myself to you?”

“We let you in the front door, Ed,” Sam replied quietly. “Most people don’t even get the address. So tell us why you’ve got such a bad feeling about this guy.”

Ed continued glaring at Dean for a moment before deflating and sitting back in his chair. “Fine, okay.” He took another gulp of his drink and heaved a sigh. “I know a fair few people who enjoy watching all the kitschy ghost hunting shows. It’s how a lot of hunters recognize me at first. One dude even told me our corny old video about how to actually deal with a ghost was what saved his life. It’s fucking weird being central to someone’s hunter origin story like that, but you guys probably know the feeling.”

Dean snorted, and Sam just nodded. 

“I don’t know that I’m connected to anyone’s hunter origin story, but I did once declare myself God on national television,” Cas muttered, “So I can sympathize with being recognized for the wrong reasons.”

“Hey,” Dean said, laying a reassuring hand on Cas’s wrist. “At least you’ve never topped the FBI’s most wanted list.”

That startled a laugh out of Cas, and he smiled at Dean. Sam cleared his throat and waved a hand at Ed to continue. Ed eventually tore his eyes from them and focused his attention on Sam instead.

“Right, so anyway, a few months back I ran into a hunter you guys know. I eventually read all those books about you, so I know he wasn’t bullshitting me. Name’s Walt.”

“Riiiight. He killed us that one time,” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes and Ed shook his head. “You just do not know how to let shit go, do you?”

Sam cut in. “It’s fine. He apologized for it. We moved on. Right Dean?”

Dean nodded. “He helped you take down the Brits. He’s good in my book. Doesn’t mean I can just forget the fact he shot me in the chest once. It’s not like that actually feels good, you know.”

It was Cas’s turn to lay a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder. They exchanged a long look before Ed picked up his story yet again.

“So anyway, Walt was having a laugh over this new guy on youtube and asked me for my professional opinion on his showmanship. The usual teasing, whatever. But everything about this guy just feels _off_ somehow. I couldn’t explain it, but he gave me the creeps. I laughed it off with Walt, but later that night I started looking into the guy. What I found, or didn’t find, just made me more concerned.”

“You mentioned you couldn’t trace his name back to anyone real,” Sam said, cutting off whatever potentially unhelpful comment Dean had been about to make.

“That was just the tip of the iceberg. The other three members of the team are all real, verifiable people. They’ve all got minor rap sheets for parking tickets, trespassing, the occasional weed possession or public intoxication. Nothing serious. But they all actually exist. And they could just as easily have been us, back in the day.”

“What, they were just driving around in a camper trying to get famous on the internet?” Dean asked. Sam made a frustrated noise in his direction, but Ed nodded.

“Pretty much, yeah. They were the Scooby Gang, minus the dog. Go back to the beginning of their youtube channel, and the first year or so of their videos were very different. More history at first, but they gradually moved on to ghost stories specifically. And there was lots of crystal energy healing hippie shit, and not a single identifiable actual ghost.”

“So Wulf joined up with them at some point and began leading them to the Dark Side,” Dean said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Not exactly,” Ed replied. “They always had a taste for the bizarre. They did a lot of shoots from graveyards, with Lorna holding seances trying to raise the dead. Or from abandoned places where they all just went exploring looking for anything spooky. They went down to New Orleans last October for Halloween and dedicated an entire hour to looking for vampires in voodoo shops and the back alleys of the French Quarter.”

“Idiots,” Dean muttered.

Sam started to roll his eyes on reflex, but couldn’t deny it was a fair assessment, and eventually just shrugged. “So they were mostly harmless, if misguided kids, and you think this Wulf guy targeted them and has basically been using them ever since? But why?”

Ed held up his hands. “I have no idea. It seems like kind of a stupid thing for a demon to do. If he is actually a demon. Why would he bother playing parlor tricks with a bunch of kids for a modest number of youtube subscribers? I floated the theory to a couple of my contacts, and they agreed it seemed pointless. Or at least harmless. They aren’t out there killing people. At least, not that I can tell.”

“If that’s true, then why the rush to bring this to us now?” Cas asked. “There are-- I won’t say _benign --_ but not actively malicious supernatural beings in the world.”

“You used to be one of ‘em,” Dean added.

“He may be that,” Ed agreed. “But it felt wrong to not at least bring it to the attention of people who were actually informed and equipped to know that for sure. I didn’t feel right just letting it slide and assuming everything was exactly what it appeared to be on the surface. I didn’t want to be wrong and then hear that someone died-- or worse-- because I never said anything.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully and glanced from Sam to Cas. “Okay then. You’re just doing your due diligence. I mean, that’s more than we’ve done before stumbling into a couple of apocalypses. What do you need from us?”

Ed stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “That’s it? You’ll help?”

Dean shrugged. “Sam already said it. We let you in the front door. We were pretty much committed to this the second I texted you our address. So what’s the plan?”

“I, uh…” Ed started, and then shook himself and took another gulp of his beer. “I hadn’t really worked that part out, beyond knowing they’re planning to film this weekend up at the geographical center. I’ve been keeping tabs on them, which is how I caught their shooting permit when they filed it. Lorna even posted that they were getting ready to film their new episode on her twitter yesterday, and I hauled ass to make it here in time.”

“You’re lucky we were home,” Sam told him. “What were you gonna do if we weren’t?”

“Probably wing it,” Ed replied with a nervous laugh. “Show up and pretend it was entirely coincidental that I was making a documentary about the ley lines in the area or something.”

“That seems like a poorly considered plan,” Cas said, a frown creasing his brow. “If nothing else, you’d put yourself in this demon’s crosshairs.”

“If he is a demon,” Ed countered.

“Well he’s definitely something, and you know it. Or you wouldn’t have called us,” Dean replied, finally dropping his feet to the ground and sitting up. “He can control the appearance and disappearance of death echoes, and it’s probably safest to assume he collapsed that shack using the Force.” He turned to look at Cas. “So outside of angels, demons, and ghosts, what else can smash shit up with the power of positive thinking?”

“Billie, for starters. Reapers, a witch with sufficient skill,” Cas began listing on his fingers.

“Yeah, well the only witch I know of with that kinda skill is Rowena, and she wouldn’t pull this crap.”

Sam nodded in agreement, but Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean and went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “A nephilim, and an untold number of the fae.”

Dean groaned. “Not those fuckers again. One leprechaun is enough for a lifetime.”

Ed turned a disbelieving look on Dean, who just rolled his eyes.

“Long story, don’t wanna go there.”

Ed turned to Sam and mouthed the word _fairies_ with a disbelieving look on his face, but Sam shook his head and mouthed _later_ back at him, and then issued the single statement that would get Dean to shut up about fairies the fastest.

“You can probably still see them, Dean,” Sam replied. “So that’s something.”

Dean rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, and Cas continued where he left off, listing out supernatural entities with the power to manipulate the dead.

“Angels, if there are any left who still retain even a sliver of their grace. In the past I would’ve included a number of demons on that list, as well, but I believe we’ve killed all of the forces of Hell who could even create the illusion of such an incarnation.”

“Well that’s one thing we can scratch off the list then,” Dean replied, taking a swig of his beer while Ed looked on in dismay.

“Demons could’ve done that?” Ed finally asked.

“The Princes of Hell were Lucifer’s strongest soldiers. And the only one of them that could’ve managed that sort of illusion had stolen the power from an archangel,” Cas informed him solemnly before resuming his list.”

“Riiiight,” Ed muttered and took a gulp of his beer.

“I also believe that the djinn that had the power to alter reality lost those powers when Jack killed Michael.”

“We don’t need to worry about what it can’t be, Cas” Dean said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms like that could avert the headache he felt coming on. “We’re already dealing with a short list of my least favorite things here.”

“That’s why I thought you’d be relieved to consider some of the impossibilities. It could be worse.”

Dean snorted out a laugh and stood up to get another round of beer. “And this is why we keep you around, buddy,” he added, dropping a hand on Cas’s shoulder as he passed his chair.

Cas smiled fondly at Dean’s back as he walked away, and Ed’s eyebrows pinched together as he considered their exchange. Sam noticed the gears turning and cleared his throat before Ed could say anything about it out loud.

“So, most likely a reaper, angel, or the fae. We’ll pack accordingly.” Sam turned to Dean and accepted a fresh beer as Dean returned to his seat and handed bottles around. “We have rice in the kitchen, right? I was gonna fill up a jar in case it is the fae.”

“Are they allergic to rice or something?” Ed asked.

Sam shook his head. “If you spill something like salt or sand or rice in front of them, they have to stop and count every grain. It slows them down long enough to send them back where they came from.”

“Hopefully,” Dean replied. “And if they grab you and try to take you with them, just start shooting. That seems to piss them off enough to toss you back.”

“Should I ask how you know that, or is it part of the long story?” Ed said, looking at each of them uncertainly. When no one seemed eager to answer, he sat back in his chair. “Okay then. Later. Those books were apparently not as detailed as they’d lead you to believe.”

“You’ve read the Winchester Gospels then,” Cas said, and didn’t even attempt to make it sound like a question.

“Yeah,” Sam added when Ed nodded. “The last published book only covers up through early 2010 or so.”

“Fuckton of bullshit’s happened since then,” Dean replied.

“So I’ve gathered,” Ed said. “I’ve heard a lot of tall tales about you guys, and just considering this place,” he said, gesturing around at the bunker in general with his beer, “I have a feeling there’s a lot more truth to them then most people even realize.”

“Depends on who you’re getting your stories from, but yeah, probably,” Dean said solemnly.

They all sat there drinking quietly for a few minutes. Cas watched Dean carefully between sips, like he was waiting to see if Dean would allow the fit of melancholy that had come over him to pass on its own, or if he’d need a bit of space to untangle his thoughts. It became a moot point when Sam had apparently had enough of his own internal reminiscing and brought everyone back to the case at hand.

“It’s getting late, but you said they won’t be in town until tomorrow anyway?”

Ed nodded, setting down his beer bottle on the table and pulling out his phone. “So says their social media.” He pulled up their account and slid the phone across the table to Sam, who picked it up and began scrolling their recent messages. “Or at least that’s how I’m reading it.”

“Really? Their account is called UnnaturallyEvil?” Sam said with a scoff. “If the dude really is a demon, that’s a bit on the nose.”

“Well you know demons,” Dean said. “They aren’t exactly known for their subtlety.”

“Tell me about it,” Cas muttered, and shared a long grimace with Dean.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments that Sam seemed oblivious to as he read, but Ed finally cracked.

“I know you guys have a long history with this demon shit, but you just talk so casually about it all. I don’t know, like it _bores_ you or something. Every other hunter I’ve met would be peeing their pants at the prospect of a demon hunt, and you’re not even a little bit ruffled.”

Dean shrugged and took another gulp of his beer. Sam let out a long, low laugh. Cas looked right at Ed and said, “There are things in creation far worse than demons.”

Ed looked disturbed by this revelation, so Dean sat up, absently reaching over to pat Cas on the knee as he did.

“What Cas means is that after everything we’ve seen, demons are old hat. We know what makes them tick, we know how to deal with them. They’re dangerous and powerful, but we know all their weaknesses. If it’s a demon, it’ll probably apologize and walk itself back to hell when it sees us coming.”

Sam snorted out a laugh and shook his head at that.

“Plus,” Dean added, “Who among us hasn’t been a demon at some point?”

“I haven’t been a demon,” Cas replied. “But I was an angel for several billion years, so I can empathize on some level.”

“Technically I don’t think I was ever a demon,” Sam added absently. “Possessed, soulless, and whatever was going on in that crypt when I killed Lilith. I think you’re the only one who’s actually _been_ a demon, Dean.”

Dean grumbled at that and changed the subject before Ed could translate the absolutely horrified look on his face into legitimate questions for him. It was really not something he cared to talk about.

“So are we gonna show up like some sort of film crew looking to poach their story out from under them, or just playing tourist?” Dean paused for a second, glancing over at Cas before fixing a stare on Ed. “You heard it through the hunter network that we lived in this area, and the hunter network ain’t got nothin on demon bathroom walls, apparently.”

“Dean’s right,” Castiel said. “Most supernatural beings are well aware that the bunker is in this part of Kansas. They tend to stay the hell away from the whole area. Yet Wulf and his people even filed for permits and announced their plans publicly. Either he’s not a demon, or he’s specifically trying to draw us out for some reason.”

Sam frowned at that. “It could be a trap.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, standing up and clearing away their empty bottles. “As I said, we know how to take care of demons. We convinced God to retire. I don’t think there’s anything we can’t handle as long as we know what to expect going in.”

“That’s the problem,” Cas reminded him. “We have no idea what to expect.”

“Cas is right,” Sam added. “Maybe it’s just the dumbest demon on the planet. Maybe he’s got a death wish. Or maybe it’s not a demon at all, and it’s just some dipshit who has no idea the Winchesters live spitting distance from whatever they’re planning. We might not even be a factor in all of this.”

“There’s still a chance it’s just a bunch of humans who are really, really good at VFX,” Ed said with a frown. “I mean, it’s statistically improbable for a youtube show with a shoestring budget, but not impossible. For all we know, Wulf could be a trust fund brat with a degree in digital editing who bought himself an impenetrable fake ID just to run some long con of a prank on the world for laughs.”

Dean just stared at him as he rambled on, and eventually cut him off. “Yeah, I can’t really buy that one either.”

“So we all agree that whatever this is, it’s not a coincidence that they’re gonna be a few miles away tomorrow night,” Sam said, shutting the laptop and leaning back in his seat.

“Yeah, probably not,” Dean agreed. “So we’ll just have to be ready for anything.” He paused behind Cas’s chair and patted him on the shoulder. “I might take a drive around town tomorrow just to see where they’re setting up camp. You wanna ride shotgun?”

“That’s agreeable, yes,” Cas replied, and stood up. He took a minute to ensure his bunny slippers were all the way on and then shuffled around beside Dean.

Dean looked from Ed to Sam. “So I guess we reconvene tomorrow and get this shit sorted out. I’m gonna get some sleep. You wanna give Ed the fifty cent tour and set him up for the night?”

Sam nodded. “I can do that. You guys already had a long day.”

With that, Dean nodded and headed off to his room. Cas bid Sam and Ed a good night and followed him a moment later. Ed watched them go with continuing curiosity while Sam sipped his beer. He was quiet for a moment until he couldn’t take it anymore. He waved a finger in the direction Dean and Cas had disappeared.

“So are they… a thing?”

Sam picked at the label on his beer bottle, staring at it for a few moments so he wouldn’t have to look directly at Ed yet. After more than a decade of watching Dean and Cas be Dean and Cas, this was simultaneously the thing he wanted to have a conversation about the most and the least. He’d never inflicted his frustrations over their obliviousness on any of their friends, but for some reason, now that Ed had explicitly asked about them, Sam felt that maybe he would understand. If nothing else, Ed was someone Sam didn’t really have an objection to dumping ten years’ worth of baggage on. He eventually sighed, gulped down the rest of his drink and set the bottle on the table.

“You said you read all the books, right?” he asked, still staring at the bottle before finally turning to glance at Ed, who nodded slowly.

“Yeah, but by my calculations, the last book took place at least a decade ago. That’s… a pretty long time to let the plot drop, as it were.”

Sam rubbed his hands over his face and up through his hair, giving himself a little shake of encouragement to get through this potentially awful conversation. He’d been watching Dean and Cas sacrifice themselves for each other and pine for each other for most of his adult life, and he still had no idea how to get them over whatever was persistently keeping them from just talking to each other about it. Maybe venting a bit to a disinterested third party would do him some good. Like therapy for the therapist. That didn’t mean he had to jump in head first. He could test the waters and slowly wade into the shallow end of this conversation. So he started by filling Ed in on the highlights of the last decade, skewing heavily toward Dean and Cas and their mutual… whatever it was.

He started with the basics. After running through a general summary of major catastrophes and minor apocalypses, he explained how they’d found the bunker and then segued into the Men of Letters saga, Cliff’s Notes version. He gave a quick primer on Jack, and finally got around to Chuck and Amara and the Empty, and how all that eventually shook out, while Ed nodded along, asking a few questions here and there, but mostly just sitting there blinking and trying to absorb the insanity that had been their lives. Sam eventually glanced at the clock and realized he’d been talking nonstop for nearly an hour.

“Holy crap,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. “Uh, you maybe want some coffee or something? Or another beer?”

Ed leveled him with a look. “Only if you’re not about to get to the point. Now I know what you guys meant by _it’s a long story_. I don’t think you’ve really scratched the surface of it yet. I mean, this has been a fascinating, if existential crisis-inducing conversation, but if we’re gonna be hunting monsters tomorrow, we should probably be catching some Z’s here soon.”

Sam blinked at him for a second before remembering why he’d felt compelled to summarize their lives. He’d made a special point of focusing on Dean and Cas’s sacrifices for one another, and what he knew of each of the times one had been absent from the other’s life-- by death, by demonhood, by imprisonment and by choice. It had been enough enduring their nonsense alone, but being the effective middleman between them was beginning to give him an involuntary twitch. He sighed and waved a hand as if it should all be obvious now that Ed had the basic general story of it all.

“That was the point,” Sam said glumly. “They’ve been through all that shit, and still haven’t figured each other out yet. I’ve been living with them for a decade and a half, and I’m about at my wits’ end.”

Ed’s mouth dropped open, and Sam shrugged.

“You know pretty much everything I do now, so what do you think? Are they a thing? You tell me. Because they haven’t realized it yet.”

Ed stared at him for a few moments, processing all of that, and then finally shook his head in total disbelief. “Are you sure? Because I have eyes, and I’m not totally useless at noticing shit.”

Sam shrugged, grabbed his empty bottle and stood up. “I think I would’ve noticed if the tension between them ever broke. It’s been exactly like this for freaking years. It’s exhausting.”

“And they never blew off a little steam? Let the feelings come pouring out? I mean, I read all the books, and I know there’s fanfic...”

Sam’s eyes widened in horror. He shook his head furiously to stop Ed from elaborating on the fanfic. He had enough to deal with in his real life without knowing the gory details of what their fans fantasized about them. “Nope.”

“Not even after Cas came back from the Empty?”

“We had more urgent stuff that needed attention, what with figuring out how Cas managed to escape the Empty, and if Jack actually had the power to bring him back.”

Ed nodded slowly. “And after Jack killed Michael and freed Dean from certain death?”

“We were all on high alert worried that Jack lost his soul.” Sam hesitated for a moment and then went on, resigned. “And I left for a while. It was just too much being here after what happened, and I wasn’t ready to face it yet. Dean and Cas stayed to keep an eye on Jack, but I don’t think they had much time to themselves.”

“Damn…” Ed went to take another sip of beer, found his bottle empty, and frowned at it. “You guys have never just had a minute to catch your breath in at least fifteen years. That’s gotta suck. But what about now? You guys were just chilling around your Fortress of Solitude here when I called. Nothing major on your plate at the moment?”

Sam turned from the wastebasket and dropped his empty bottle on the small pile of them at the bottom of the can. He just stared at Ed, dumbstruck, so Ed prodded him again.

“If you were really done with your life story, it sounds like things have been pretty quiet for the last few months. Are you sure they haven’t been testing the waters in their down time?”

Sam blinked a few times, like the thought had never even occurred to him. In the months since they’d convinced Chuck to leave them and their universe alone, Cas had stuck around. He’d just moved right in-- not like he hadn’t been considering the bunker his home for years already, but it finally felt like a permanent arrangement now that he was fully human. And he and Dean had been spending a lot more time together.

Of course, Dean bore the brunt of helping Cas adjust. He’d been focusing on weapons training, hunting and fighting as a human rather than an all-powerful angel. Cas did have skills, but adapting them to be more effective without the power of his grace on standby in emergencies, and learning to find other solutions to problems than just zapping them away had been a process, and one Dean lamented about and shared giddy anecdotes about with Sam on the regular.

They’d even taken a few overnight hunts together, just the two of them. Mostly straightforward salt and burn jobs that didn’t really need a third set of hands, so Sam had stayed behind to keep working on organizing the bunker. And maybe giving the two of them a bit of time alone together in hopes they’d actually work things out. If it had the side effect of sparing Sam from having to put up with their endless tension, that was just a bonus.

And there was today’s epic shopping trip. They’d planned to pick up a few things, but it had turned into a day-long marathon that resulted in Cas modeling his new bunny slippers while Dean abandoned all his dinner plans to heat up a couple of frozen pizzas.

“Yeah, you might be right.” Sam shook off his reverie and grinned at Ed. He could make a spreadsheet of all the subtle shifts in Dean and Cas’s relationship over the last few months while he was trying to fall asleep later and see if he needed to shift any of those tally marks around. He was still sure that if their relationship had changed in such a fundamental way, there would’ve been more than just _subtle_ shifts, at any rate. But talking it all out with Ed had at least given him a much needed outlet for his own frustrations. That was enough for now. “If you’re ready, I can show you around. We have a room you can use for tonight.”

“I really appreciate it. It’s been a while since I slept in a real bed.”

Sam just snorted and led him off down the hall. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I thought we were going to tell him tonight,” Cas said as he caught up with Dean in the hallway outside Dean’s door.

Dean stopped in the doorway and turned to Cas with a half shrug. “You know I was planning on telling him after dinner, but then Ed sent that video and sorta derailed it.” He reached up, grabbed Cas by the shoulder and pulled him into his room. He kicked the door shut and wrapped his arms around Cas, burying his face against Cas’s neck. “What’s one more day? Besides, if he hasn’t figured it out by now, he deserves to stay in the dark.”

Cas nudged Dean away, but only far enough so he could look him in the eye. “I don’t like keeping secrets from Sam. It feels dishonest not to tell him. It’s been weeks now, and we keep finding excuses not to bring it up.”

“You mean we keep getting interrupted by shit every time we plan to tell him. Last week it was that salt and burn out in Iowa. Tonight it was a potential demon in our back yard. Last thing I want is to throw Sam off his game when we’re headed into a hunt.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Sam didn’t even come with us to Iowa.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the kind of thing I wanna drop on him and then run away, you know? _Oh, hey, Sam, there’s a pot pie in the fridge for you to heat up for dinner, don’t forget to double check the inventory I did this morning, and by the way me and Cas are officially together in a kissing way now. Bye! See you after we kill a ghost!_ ”

Cas’s frown softened as Dean ranted out his complaint in a strident, sing-songy voice. “You don’t want him to think you’re uncomfortable or embarrassed about us. Or about telling him about us.”

“Exactly!” Dean replied, letting go of Cas to plop down on the sofa to untie his boots. “I want him to know we’re telling him on purpose. Man, this has been years in the making, and it’s more than I ever hoped to get with you. I’m pretty sure Sam’s half figured it out on his own, because we haven’t exactly been subtle, but I want him to understand what this means to me, to _us._ We’re not hiding it from him, or ashamed to tell him. We’re just….” he trailed off, dropping his boots to the floor and nudging them under the couch with his foot before standing up and cupping Cas’s cheeks between his palms, at a loss for words looking into Cas’s eyes smiling back at him.

Cas nodded. “We’re just adjusting to this new aspect of our relationship ourselves. It’s been a lot.”

Dean laughed and then leaned in to plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. ”That is an understatement there, buddy.”

“If Sam still hasn’t figured it out, it’s probably because you still refer to me as _buddy_ and _pal_.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “If that’s true, then he’s an idiot. What, am I supposed to start calling you darling or sweetheart? How about pookie.”

Cas made a face at that, and a sly grin spread across Dean’s face.

“Don’t like that, we could try snookums. Or booboo. Or mrfff--”

Cas cut him off with a kiss before Dean could suggest any additional disturbing pet names, and Dean wasn’t about to object. It was the reaction he was hoping for, actually.

It hadn’t been that long since their relationship took this new turn. When they finally had a minute to breathe, after Cas announced he intended to stay and live out one glorious human life of his own (the exact words Cas said to Dean just a few months before), it had only taken Dean about fifteen minutes to run through all his arguments trying to talk Cas out of wasting what was left of his greatly reduced lifespan hanging around with him in an underground bunker with an occasional road trip and attendant stay in a crappy motel to deal with some wayward monster or other. Cas fully convinced him that no, he really couldn’t do better than to spend his life with Dean, however they chose to spend it, and that Dean was absolutely worth it. It had been that last bit that had left Dean floored.

He’d tossed and turned that night, wondering exactly how Cas had meant it. But the entire world hadn’t burnt down by the next morning. Cas hadn’t changed his mind and taken off for greener pastures, and from all appearances he intended to stick around no matter what. From what Dean could see, there wasn’t a drop of regret in him.

Dean had woken up to find Cas cheerfully bungling his way through figuring out how to make a pot of coffee. The look of delight and relief on his face was only partly due to Dean taking the carafe from his hands and showing him how it was done. Things only seemed to improve from there. Dean had never seen Cas in such a good mood for such an extended period of time.

At first, Dean was reluctant to rock the boat, to push any of his long pent-up feelings on Cas when he was still getting used to being a normal human again. It hardly seemed fair to dump that on Cas before he had a chance to get his feet under him.

It bubbled at the back of his mind, though, just waiting for the right time to act on it. The fight training, the weapons training, and even the cooking and pop culture lessons that mostly consisted of watching tv together-- all of it gave Dean an excuse to spend most of his time with Cas. Every night after Cas thanked him again and reluctantly headed off to his own room, Dean was left feeling bereft. Like the unspoken words between them were getting louder by the day.

The first time they went out to tackle a suspected case on their own had finally given Dean the open ground he’d been stumbling around for, and he’d flung himself down on it bodily. Quite literally.

About a week after they’d settled into their new routine, Dean went looking for Cas to see if he wanted to drive into town for lunch. He found him in the library frowning at the computer.

“What’s wrong? Can’t find that video of the sail fail cat?”

Cas slowly looked up at him and shook his head, his frown disappearing for a moment as he recalled the video in question. “No, I think I may have found a case, though.”

Dean gave him an approving nod and leaned over Cas’s shoulder to read the screen. It had all the hallmarks of an easy case, and it was only a couple hours’ drive from the bunker. Worst case scenario, they’d end up with a good, long drive and maybe they could stop at Dean’s favorite burger joint on their way home. It was a win any way you looked at it, in Dean’s book. So they’d packed an overnight bag just in case and set out after a quick word with Sam.

“Cas thinks he may have caught wind of a ghoul a couple hours west of here,” Dean said, poking his head into Sam’s room to find him poring over dusty old records books.

Sam frowned up at Dean, setting his pencil down on the massive register page he’d been studying to mark his place. “Uh, sorry to hear about that. You wanna go check it out?”

“I think Cas and I will head over there. It might be nothing, but you never know,” Dean said, waving a hand at Sam’s pile of books. “It’s close enough that we can call you for backup if we need it, if you wanna keep nerding it up in peace.”

“It’s not nerdy to finally figure out what exactly the Men of Letters have stashed around the world, and where,” Sam countered. “There’s a lot more dangerous shit just lying around than I realized.”

“Yeah, well, you be careful with it. Don’t dig out anything that might try to eat you until we get back.”

A wicked grin spread across Sam’s face. “You don’t wanna miss out on being gnawed on?”

Dean made a face at that and shook his head. “More like I don’t wanna have to scrub your guts outta the woodwork. Just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. You too.”

And with that, they were on the road.

Of course it hadn’t been a ghoul. It had been _three_ ghouls chomping their way through the local pet population in a bid to get closer to the human population. Dean had been chasing a ghoul-dog through a lonely country cemetery, and was tripped by a ghoul that for some reason had chosen the form of a large and particularly ornery duck. He landed hard on his shoulder against a broken headstone, lost the dog-ghoul, but managed to hold on to the duck-ghoul. It had been a messy task, but eventually they rounded up and dealt with the annoying monsters, with Dean muttering about why they will never have pets and Cas nodding sympathetically as they burned the ghoul remains.

Cas had refused to let Dean drive back to the bunker with his bruised shoulder, at least not until he got some proper rest. He insisted on driving to the nearest motel, and made Dean wait in the car while he checked them in. He spent the next half hour fully examining Dean’s injuries and worrying over him as if Dean’s life depended on his constant concentration. That’s how they ended up having a very, very long talk in a quiet motel room in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

“It’s just a bruise, buddy. I’ll live.”

Cas stared intently at him, holding the ice pack to Dean’s shoulder after Dean had set it aside a few minutes earlier, daring him to try and get out of keeping it there for the full twenty minutes the first aid manual he’d read recommended. Cas had suffered his fair share of bumps and scrapes during the chase, too, but nothing quite as angry and swollen as Dean’s shoulder.

Dean’s eyes ran over Cas’s face, then down to his battered knuckles. The fact Cas was ignoring all his own injuries to mother hen Dean was what finally pushed Dean over the edge. He reached up and patted Cas’s hand where he held the ice pack, and then gently pushed his fingers under Cas’s. All the heartiness had gone from his voice when he spoke again.

“You know, you should really get those cuts cleaned out so they don’t get infected. I got this. And by the time you’re done in the shower, my 20 minutes will be up.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean for a moment, but had to accept the sincerity he found there. He sighed and rubbed his temple, still concerned but also feeling his own aches now that he was human. “Are you sure? I can wait and let you take the first shower. You’re gonna want hot water on that after the ice, and I’m not sure what the water pressure is like here.”

“Cas, please, just take care of yourself for once, okay? Then you’re gonna let me bandage up all those scrapes I know you’re hiding under that filthy shirt,” he added, pointing at Cas’s flannel spattered with mud and blood and ghoul guts.

Cas glanced down at himself, finally relinquishing the ice pack to pick at his shirt. He looked back up at Dean with a grimace. “I see what you mean. I’ll be quick.”

Dean nodded at him and settled back against the pillows as Cas got up with a sigh and headed to the bathroom. He was true to his word, and was out within five minutes, wearing nothing more than a slightly too small motel towel around his waist and a sheepish smile. Dean had been a model patient and hadn’t moved an inch the entire time, but he nearly dropped his ice pack when Cas slowly emerged in a cloud of steam and inched his way toward his duffel bag for a clean set of clothes. He watched with a mixture of lust and horror as Cas turned his back to rummage though his bag, following a water droplet that trickled from Cas’s hair over the rippling muscles of his back, wondering what that droplet tasted like. The long scrapes marring those muscles snapped Dean out of it and finally got him to his feet. He dropped the ice pack on the nightstand and made his way over to Cas, determined not to act like a lovestruck fool.

“It’s been more than 20 minutes, I think,” Dean said softly when he was right behind Cas, one hand up and hovering a few inches above the angriest looking abrasion along Cas’s shoulderblade.

Cas must’ve already been on edge because he actually flinched when Dean spoke.

“You gotta let me get a look at those wounds. Make sure they’re clean.”

Cas turned to him, clutching a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, eyes wide. Dean suppressed a wince as he rolled his shoulder to prove he wasn’t too injured to return the favor for Cas.

“Come on, into the bathroom where the light’s better. Then you can put that on,” Dean said, pointing at the clothes in Cas’s hands. Just humor me, okay?”

Cas glanced down at Dean’s shoulder and frowned. “But you’re injured.”

“Not so bad I can’t take care of you, too,” Dean assured him with a laugh, and then steered Cas into the bathroom.

Dean doused a washcloth with antiseptic from their first aid kit and set to work while Cas gripped the edge of the sink and sucked a pained breath through his teeth. “Is this always such an ordeal to endure? It never seems to get easier.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Regretting giving up your mojo now?” Dean asked hesitantly. He was afraid he already knew the answer. It was the one reason he’d held back on letting Cas get any closer to him. He still believed that Cas would come to regret his choice, and that he’d resent Dean for it for the rest of their completely human lives. That wasn’t something Dean was sure he could live with.

They’d been doing their uncomfortably comfortable dance around each other for the better part of a week, spending all their time together and taking it in turn to risk getting just a little bit closer to one another before freaking out and retreating to their respective corners. It had gotten so bad that during one of his strategic retreats to the kitchen under the guise of getting something to drink, Sam had questioned his well being. Instead of casually grabbing a beer and stopping to comment on Sam’s nerdy research or his choice of healthy snack food, Dean had rushed to the sink to repeatedly fill a glass with cold water and guzzled it so fast Sam had been surprised he hadn’t sloshed it all down his shirt, or accidentally drowned himself with it.

He’d watched Dean repeat the action twice before clearing his throat and asking if he was feeling okay.

“Fine,” Dean had nearly choked but eventually replied, out of breath. “I’m fine. Just needed a break.”

Sam frowned at that. “I thought you and Cas were bingewatching baking shows again. Please don’t tell me you got yourself that worked up by watching some dude bake a pie.”

Dean had laughed it off and shook his head, rinsing out the glass and setting it into the sink. He squared his shoulders and plastered on a confident smile before turning to Sam and sauntering over to the fridge. “Nah, think I’ve just been sitting still too long. Gonna make dinner here soon, but I told Cas I’d bring him a beer.” He grabbed a couple bottles out of the fridge as if that had been his mission all along, and left the kitchen without another word. Sam, bless him, had given him a strange look, but hadn’t brought it up again.

That had been the night before their ghoul hunt gone wrong. They’d been watching baking shows, and Cas had been taking careful notes, making lists of ingredients, and discussing which things would most appeal to Dean. He wanted to try everything, and Dean had happily encouraged Cas’s growing interest in the wide world of baked goods. On his previous speed run through humanity, Cas hadn’t gotten much beyond learning to microwave stuff or devouring the prepackaged sweet offerings at the Gas N Sip, and there was so much for them to explore together now.

One of the contestants on a baking challenge show had made something layered with whipped cream, and after a series of innuendo-laden comments from the judges, Cas had turned to Dean with a frown.

“Are some foods inherently sexual?”

He’d asked the question in all seriousness, but it had taken Dean completely by surprise. In an instant Dean became uncomfortably aware of just how close the two of them had drifted together on the sofa. He’d leaned in closer to follow Cas’s note taking, and Cas had leaned in closer to ask for Dean’s input, and over the course of a few hours they’d plate-tectoniced themselves right into this massive earthquake zone without even realizing it.

Cas’s question had left Dean sputtering. He blubbered for a moment while he tried to come up with an answer to that, regretting that Cas hadn’t asked him _before_ they’d gotten all cozy together. He’d let his mind wander way too far, reading in way too much to Cas’s intentions and interest. It was far to easy to pretend they were something more, that Cas wanted him closer for the same reasons Dean wanted to be closer to him. This was what he got for indulging those fantasies he usually kept locked down deep where they would never risk accidental exposure to the light of day. He’d been in the entirely wrong mindset to give Cas an answer that didn’t run dangerously close to innuendo himself.

Rather than risk insulting or disgusting Cas, Dean had stammered out a quick explanation that food could definitely be sensual, and some people enjoyed making it a part of sex, but foods weren’t necessarily sexual themselves. Cas had stared at him, and then nodded slowly.

“I do know some food emojis have sexual connotations. The peach and the eggplant, for example. But that seems to have more to do with their resemblance to body parts than actually using those fruits in a sexual fashion. I don’t believe there is a whipped cream emoji…”

Dean cleared his throat and stood up. “Uh, yeah, that’s probably for the best. Hey, I’m thirsty. I think I’m gonna grab a beer. You want one? Good, I’ll be right back. You keep taking those notes.” And then he'd fled from the room.

The fact he had a fridge full of beer in the Dean Cave and hadn’t actually needed to leave the room didn’t even register to him until he was out in the hall. By the time he’d returned, Cas had allowed the subject to drop, much to Dean’s relief, but also disappointment. Cas had also seemed disappointed, and despite continuing to watch and take notes for several more hours, the comfortable closeness they’d shared never returned. Dean thought it might be for the best.

What would he have even done if Cas had come on to him? If he’d expressed an interest in trying out some of those food-related sexual experiments? What would it have meant to Cas?

For all Dean knew, Cas wasn’t any more interested in him now than he’d ever been before. It was all well and good if Cas was just exploring the possibilities humanity had opened up to him. Dean could handle helping him experiment with food, or picking out clothes, or learning to hunt. But anything involving personal intimacy was strictly off the table unless Cas was fully aware of what that would mean to Dean emotionally. So of course it wasn’t something Dean ever intended to bring up, if he could help it. Not that he thought he’d just deal with it if Cas chose someone else to have those experiences with, either, but at least that would be Cas’s choice. And when Cas was finished experimenting, it wouldn’t be Dean’s heart crushed under the weight of his eventual rejection.

It was bad enough that he felt what he felt already. If they were to take their relationship to another level, he’d only be that much more thoroughly destroyed when Cas was finished with him.

So Dean had let it go, let them slide back into more comfortable territory and stomped his dangerous feelings back down.

But that had been before the motel, before the ghoul hunt gone wrong, and before they stood under the buzzing fluorescent light of a dingy little bathroom with Cas dressed in a precariously wrapped bath towel as Dean carefully tended his wounds.

Cas winced as Dean dabbed antiseptic on the scrape, knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the sink and tensed the muscles in his back. He took a deep breath. “No, even now I have no regrets. I would do it all again if I knew I would end up here.”

Dean snorted and opened the tube of antibiotic cream. Even the worst of the scrapes wasn’t too bad, but even surface abrasions could be a bitch. Cas had been wearing a heavy canvas jacket, but he’d taken a few tumbles and landed on his back at least twice that Dean had seen. Who knew that wrestling a duck in a graveyard could be so traumatic? He gently applied a thin layer of the soothing ointment and Cas slowly relaxed his muscles by degrees beneath Dean’s fingertips, and the relief was evident to Dean in Cas’s reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, a minor injury isn’t going to change my mind.”

“Yeah, just you wait until you break your ankle or dislocate a shoulder,” Dean replied grimly, throwing all his focus into his work so he wouldn’t have to watch Cas’s reaction shift yet again.

Cas didn’t move. After a moment, he asked quietly, “Is that what you think? That eventually something bad enough will happen and I’ll be convinced that I’ve made a terrible error?”

Dean didn’t answer, just kept focused on finishing with Cas’s wounds. One shoulder ticked up nearly imperceptibly, though, and Cas took it as confirmation. The second Dean was done and had replaced the cap on the ointment, Cas rounded on him with a glare.

“First of all, thank you for tending to my wounds.” He waited for Dean to acknowledge this with a single surprised nod before moving on. “But I will not thank you for thinking so little of me. Do you think I made this choice on a whim? Do you think I was unaware of the suffering inherent to the human condition before I adopted it for myself?”

Dean slowly shook his head. “I know you thought things could be different this time. Maybe I wouldn’t kick you out to fend for yourself. At least you weren’t dumped out of the sky in the middle of nowhere with all of heaven hunting you down.”

Cas frowned at him but pressed on. “This has nothing to do with the last time I was human, Dean. And this wasn’t a decision that I had any doubts about this time. You know I’ve been alive for billions of years.”

“Yeah, and you could’ve lived billions more…”

“But I didn’t want to, Dean,” Cas replied, shifting his weight and pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. “In all those billions of years, and the substantially shorter time watching humanity evolve and flourish, I’ve borne witness to horrors and tragedy, suffering and sorrow. And yet I never understood why humans would endure any of it given a choice.”

Dean thought about that for a minute. “You made the choice, though.”

“I did. I know what it meant, too, because of you. I never understood until you yelled it in my face in a last desperate attempt to win me over to the cause of saving humanity. I defied everything I’d ever believed in, all those billions of years, because you convinced me that some things are worth suffering for.”

As he talked, Dean’s brow furrowed deeper. Before Dean could reply to that, Cas smiled at him.

“It’s not all suffering, though. There’s also joy, human warmth and compassion, friendship and love that I may have understood intellectually as an angel, but until I experienced it for myself, I never truly _felt_. And that’s why I made the choice I did. Nothing could ever make me regret choosing to live a single glorious human life with you, Dean.”

“Are you sure about that?” Dean asked. “You can’t think of a single thing?”

Cas shook his head. “There are things I hope for, even long for, but if they never come to pass, I will be content with the life I have now. There are things I would regret losing, or mourn the loss of, but I will never regret this.”

“What if I told you that I would regret losing you?” Dean asked carefully. “That my biggest fear is that I’ll say or do something to drive you away? Or that I’ve been waiting for you to snap out of it and realize you’re wasting that one glorious human life hanging around an underground bunker with a loser like me?”

Cas smiled fondly at him and reached out one hand to rest it on Dean’s shoulder. Dean flinched when Cas’s hand landed on his bruise. When he tried to move his hand away, Dean grabbed it and kept it there, and Cas frowned.

“I think my only regret is that I can no longer take away your pain.”

“I don’t need you to do that, Cas. It’s enough to know you would if you could,” Dean replied, and then took a deep breath. “I wish I could make being human again easier on you.”

“Dean, I became human precisely because I knew it would not be easy. Without that struggle, the joy and wonder of humanity hardly seems worth the effort.” Cas leaned in and looked Dean right in the eye from six inches away, to make sure he really heard what he was saying. “And I’ve found more joy and wonder being human with you than I ever knew was possible.”

Dean stared back at him, internalizing the calm certainty Cas seemed to be projecting directly into his soul. Even without his grace, Cas still had the unsettling ability to gaze directly into his core and see him for exactly who he was. He was relieved that it hadn’t been just an angel thing, that it was a Cas thing, and he hoped like hell what he was seeing in Cas was as accurate as what Cas seemed to see in him. Dean shuddered, licked his lips, and watched as Cas’s eyes flicked down to take in the movement. That settled things. He dredged up every last bit of his courage.

“Would you regret it if I asked to kiss you?”

“I’d regret it if you didn’t,” Cas replied. “Are you asking?”

Dean nodded, so stunned by the wild direction their conversation had taken that he couldn’t do anything else. Cas raised the hand that wasn’t tightly clamped to Dean’s shoulder and rested it on his cheek, and then slowly leaned in until their lips met, barely touching. He pulled back almost as quickly, leaving Dean blinking in shock. When he’d recovered enough to form coherent sentences, Dean frowned and finally released Cas’s hand from captivity. Cas gently lifted it from his shoulder and was about to step back to give Dean some space. He looked away from Dean, his smile gone wistful as if he believed that was all Dean would allow him. In that moment, Dean’s heart broke, and he knew that Cas would never regret any of it, no matter what happened to either of them.

“You would just drop it, wouldn’t you?” Dean asked, and then had to clear his throat as Cas turned back to him, confused. “If I never asked you to do that again, you’d just let it go and keep on going like we have been for years now, and you’d pretend like it never happened even if it killed you inside.”

Cas shrugged one shoulder. “It’s more than I ever hoped to get, but if it’s not something you truly want, then I’m content to have at least made my feelings clear to you even if you don’t or can’t return them. I already said I was happy to live out my life in your company, regardless of what that means to you. I want you to be happy, too, Dean.”

Dean nodded slowly. He knew exactly what Cas meant, because he’d been feeling it himself for years. He never believed that Cas could understand, or that he would reciprocate his feelings even if he did. He’d once confessed that to Kevin, that angels didn’t have the equipment to care, and trying just broke them apart. He’d already done that to Cas, and watched him break almost beyond saving.

Cas had flitted in and out of his life so many times that Dean had mostly been grateful he ever got to spend time with him at all. There had always seemed to be more important things to do, more pressing needs to attend to than Dean needing Cas to stick around _just because_. But now, after never thinking he’d ever get any more than that, Cas was telling him flat-out that he had already chosen to stick around, and his reasons amounted to _just because_. It was honestly more than Dean could process, but the one thing he knew for sure was that he would not let this opportunity pass unremarked upon. He grabbed Cas by the waist and pulled him in close. Cas stumbled against him, nearly dislodging his precariously wrapped towel and stiffening in Dean’s hold.

“I’m pretty damn happy right now, Cas.”

Cas blinked at him and then nodded, his nose practically brushing Dean’s. “I’m beginning to feel happy, as well.”

Dean laughed, pulling Cas into a hug and remembering too late that his back was covered with antiseptic cream. “Great, now we’re gonna have to do that again.” He wiped the cream off his hand onto Cas’s towel-clad hip and held him more carefully.

“Can it wait until after I kiss you again?”

Dean nodded. “We’re gonna do it right this time, though. I’ve been waiting too long to let this go.”

Dean backed Cas up against the counter and gave him a proper kiss, pouring everything he’d held back for years into it. He started slowly, giving Cas a chance to feel him out before he tried pushing for more. Cas pushed right back, giving him everything Dean had longed for and more. It felt like relief, like a painful bubble that had been pushing against them both for more than a decade had finally burst, and what spilled out between them was the pure joy and wonder they’d struggled for since they’d met.

The joy and wonder grew into desperate need, Cas holding on just as tight as a moan escaped Dean’s lips. He couldn’t hide just how much he needed Dean, too, with only a towel barely concealing his growing interest in the proceedings as Dean pressed him back into the counter. When Dean rolled his hips and made it evident that he was feeling the same, Cas stopped worrying that his towel was in danger of slipping off.

Dean ran a hand down his side, resting it on Cas’s exposed hip. Cas mirrored his movement, only foiled by the clothes Dean was still wearing. He didn’t let running into Dean’s belt stop him long, slipping his hand beneath Dean’s t-shirt and sliding it around to his back to pull Dean closer. Dean arched his back and moaned again before gently pushing Cas away and taking half a step back. Cas tried to follow him, but Dean protested.

“I’m feeling overdressed, especially with you all clean and me with grave dirt all over me still,” he muttered as he tugged his shirt off and dropped it on the floor.

Cas frowned down at the shirt, and then at Dean’s mud-stained jeans before dropping his hands from Dean’s waist and raising his eyes in horror. “You haven’t showered yet. I saved some hot water for you.”

Dean hesitated for a moment. It seemed like a bad time to just drop what they were doing, only partly out of fear that they’d all to easily be able to pretend it had never happened and just let things go right back to how they had been before. If Cas was able to just turn it off like a switch, maybe it would be impossible to ever turn it back on again. His confusion and disappointment must’ve been written clearly all over his face, because Cas reached up and touched his cheek, drawing his attention from a thousand yards away in the deep recesses of his darkest imagination.

“You took care of me and my injuries, so let me take care of you for a minute.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple times, running this development around in his mind before finally blurting out, “What, you gonna throw me in the shower and scrub me clean?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, clearly considering this. “If you’d like me to, I can do that.”

Dean nodded ever so slightly, dazed at the thought of picking right back where they just left off, only naked, wet, and soapy. The only fault he could find in that plan was Cas taking his question completely literally and administering a thorough and clinical sponge bath before declaring him clean. Considering Cas’s continued state of visible arousal was the only thing holding up his towel at this point, Dean dismissed that fear pretty quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. We can do that.”

Cas smiled serenely at him, and Dean set to work kicking off his boots and wriggling out of his pants. He left Dean to it, securing the towel around his waist before leaning over and fiddling with the shower tap.

“It took a minute to figure out how to adjust the spray,” he said, stepping aside so Dean could climb into the tub and rinse off under the warm water. Cas stood there for a moment admiring Dean from head to toe and back again, watching the water flow over his shoulders and back, over the fresh bruises blooming on skin that had once bore his handprint. Once he’d rinsed himself off and let the heat sink into his bones, Dean wiped the water from his eyes and turned to blink at Cas, still standing there in his towel staring at him. He picked up the soap and held it out toward Cas.

“The water’s gonna turn cold here sooner or later.”

Cas leapt into action, shaking himself off, and raised a foot to step into the tub. Dean couldn’t help laughing, and pointed at Cas’s waist.

“Now you’re overdressed.”

Cas glanced down at himself, whipped off the towel and tossed it on the counter. He nearly dropped the soap as he plucked it from Dean’s slippery fingers, but climbed into the tub with determination. Dean smiled at him as he set to work, soaping up his hands and running them over Dean’s warm skin.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment as Cas’s hand trailed suds down his neck and across his chest. They flew open again when Cas gently brushed a soapy finger over his nipple. His gasp brought Cas’s attention around from his intense focus on getting Dean clean. The moment they locked eyes they crashed right back to where they’d been before they’d hit the roadblock at Dean’s belt. Dean finally took a good long look at Cas, in all his wet, naked, and fully aroused glory. When Dean had drunk him all in, he reached out to Cas, looking right into his eyes, and slowly slid his hand down Cas’s side again. Cas shuddered at the touch and stepped closer. Still holding the soap, he wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist again and pulled him in close. At the first touch of warm, wet skin, the soap slipped out of his hand and landed forgotten on the floor.

Dean turned him around, pressed his back to the wall, and dove in for a kiss. He pushed his entire body up against Cas in a tangle of hands and mouths and need while the hot water fell over them. Cas pushed back with equal desperation, and at the peak of passion grabbed Dean’s shoulder as he tumbled over the edge and dragged Dean with him.

They slumped breathless in each other’s arms as the water slowly began to run cool, and only broke apart when it turned completely cold so Dean could turn it off. They stood there for a few moments, trading gentle kisses as they dried each other off. As they stepped out of the shower, Dean made his feelings clear.

“You’re not allowed to have any regrets now.”

Cas laughed. “Of course not. And neither are you.”

In the morning, instead of waking early to drive back home, Dean called Sam to let him know they were taking a few days off. When Sam had asked if they needed help finishing the case, Dean had used his shoulder as an excuse. _Don’t really feel like driving that far yet, give it a day or two to heal up first_. Cas had tilted his head, confused, but didn’t say anything until after Sam had accepted their excuse and hung up. He didn’t even need to prompt Dean with the question.

“We got a lot to work out between us,” Dean had said, pulling Cas in close as they lay in bed. “The least we deserve after finally hashing it out is a couple days of alone time. Plus this place has decent water pressure, and I probably could actually use a couple days of rest for the shoulder. And I wasn’t about to tell him about us over the phone.”

Cas had accepted that logic easily and happily, rolling on top of Dean and picking up where they’d left off the night before.

By the time they’d returned to the bunker, they’d both felt settled and at peace with their relationship. They hadn’t walked through the door and made a big announcement, nor had they sat Sam down for a serious discussion. They mostly carried on the way they always had. It wasn’t like getting together after all those years suddenly changed who they were, or shattered the previous nature of their relationship. Cas had moved his few possessions into Dean’s room over the course of a few days, and shared his bed every night. It wasn’t as if they’d been trying to keep anything secret, and Dean had been half expecting Sam to notice the cosmic shift that had occurred between them. When Sam hadn’t said anything after a few days, Dean wondered if he’d even noticed. A few days after that, it started to feel like far more of a big deal to say anything than to just keep going on like they had been. The longer it stretched out, the more awkward Dean figured the eventual conversation would be. But true to form, every time Dean managed to work himself up to sitting Sam down for the big talk, the world kept getting in the way of letting him have that conversation at all. And now here they were, pressed up against Dean’s door the same way they were in that motel bathroom, and all thoughts of anything aside from _Cas_ slipped away again.

If Sam hadn’t already figured it out, they could tell him tomorrow. After the next hunt. For now, they had more immediate needs completely occupying them as Dean kicked off his boots, Cas stepped out of his bunny slippers, and the two of them fell into their bed to wile away the hours until morning.


	4. Chapter 4

“So what do you think this guy’s deal is?” Dean asked idly as he and Cas got dressed in the bathroom the next morning.

Cas was still reliving their morning’s exploits in the shower and glanced over at Dean mid-button with a half dopey grin on his face. “Hmm?”

Dean grinned at him and leaned in for a kiss. “Have I told you I love that I can do that to you? Leave an angel speechless like that?”

Cas shook himself off and finally came back around from his happy afterglow. “Not an angel. And no, you hadn’t mentioned it yet this morning. You were referring to Wulf, I take it?”

Dean sat down on the bathroom’s wide bench to tie his boots. “Yeah. I mean, everyone in that video. Are they all in on it? Is it just Wulf and the rest of them are just along for the ride as innocents?” 

Cas frowned and considered it. “If we knew they were all involved in the deception, it would make this hunt a lot easier.”

Dean nodded and then stood up. “Can’t go in guns blazing if it’s gonna put people in danger.”

“For that matter, we don’t even know for sure that Wulf is our potential target. He could be just another dupe being taken advantage of by someone else.”

“Goddammit. I hate this case already and we haven’t even set foot out the front door yet. We don’t know what we’re hunting, and we don’t even know who we need to be pointing the guns at, and we’re still walking in there blind in broad daylight when the whole thing might be one big trap for us. I thought we were done with this sorta shit after Chuck.”

Cas reached out and laid a hand on Dean’s cheek. “He left the world just as it was. There’s plenty of terrible people in the world without Chuck pushing them toward us.”

Dean grumbled. “People, monsters, ghosts, and whatever else is still scrounging around out there.” He sighed. “At least it’s not Chuck again. The rest of it’s a cake walk compared to that.”

Cas grinned and leaned in to give Dean a little kiss as he patted his cheek. “That’s the spirit.”

Dean picked up his things and headed for the door. “Guess we need to pack for bear, then, and hope we don’t need it all.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Cas said, gathering his dirty clothes and following after Dean, “I sincerely doubt we’ll encounter an actual bear.”

“I’ll have a pic-a-nic basket ready just in case,” Dean said with a grin.

They packed up a couple of bags with all the usual gear that wasn’t already in the Impala’s trunk. Extra bullets Cas had been carving devil’s traps into, a few shotgun shells filled with a variety of substances from goofer dust to holy water, and extra weapons in case Ed wasn’t fully stocked for himself. Dean hadn’t had a chance to examine his gear, and it was easier to assume he’d need one of everything, too. Though if he’d been hunting on his own for even a few years, he should at least have the basics by now. He had called them in for backup, and his usual gig seemed more salt and burn than exorcisms and general melee, so Dean erred on the side of caution and prepared for the worst.

Dean and Cas wandered into the kitchen and dropped their weapon-laden bags on the table, and were greeted by the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Sam must’ve already been up, too, but there was no other sign of him or Ed in the kitchen. As far as Dean was concerned, that was for the best. He could make breakfast in peace and pretend they were just having a normal morning for a few minutes more.

Cas poured them coffee while he got started whipping up a massive stack of pancakes and a mountain of bacon. The smell eventually drew Sam and Ed in from the library where they’d apparently been sitting long enough for Ed to have started to feel at home in the bunker.

“Well, despite my van’s obvious benefits for life on the road, this is the one amenity I didn’t realize I missed.”

Dean turned to give Ed a weird look and then turned back to flip his last pancake out of the pan and turn off the burner. “You know they got these amazing places all over the country called diners. I think it’s the law they all gotta serve pancakes and bacon.”

Ed shook his head. “Yeah, but you guys can just make coffee and pancakes at three in the morning if you had a craving. Or something that didn’t come out of a Gas n Sip microwave. It’s… cozy.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how I think of our massive, dusty-ass underground bunker,” Dean said, holding back a laugh. “Cozy.”

“It sorta is, in a hobbit hole kinda way,” Sam said after considering it for a minute.

“More like a hobbit hole and the Mines of Moria’s unholy offspring,” Dean replied, setting the platter of bacon down on the table and stealing a piece for himself.

“If there’s a balrog here, we haven’t found it yet,” Cas said to Ed.

“Good to know,” Ed replied uncertainly, looking from Dean to Sam as if not quite sure if he should take comfort in that or be terrified by it.

Dean nearly dropped the platter of pancakes doubling over laughing, though, which brought a contented smile to Cas’s face. 

Sam sat down at the table and shifted the two heavy duffels to the floor. They landed with a heavy clanking sound which left Ed side-eyeing them. He stared for a moment like he might be able to x-ray them with his eyes before finally caving and asking.

“So what’s in the bags?”

Dean topped off his and Cas’s coffee, then held the pot up for Sam and Ed who both declined a warm up, and then sat down and tucked into the food.

“Bullets, mostly,” Dean said rather unhelpfully.

Ed raised an eyebrow at that, but Cas continued explaining.

“We weren’t sure what equipment you may have had on hand already, so Dean suggested packing an extra shotgun, machete, and a silver blade in case you needed them.”

“I’ve got all that stuff,” Ed replied quickly. “Plus an iron fireplace poker, and a half a dozen blades in other metals. I’ve seen too much weird shit in the last few years not to have started a collection.”

Dean’s mouth was full of pancake, but he gave Ed an impressed nod.

“We went over his stockpile this morning,” Sam replied, “and he’s prepared for just about anything.”

“Extra bullets are never a bad idea, though,” Ed replied.

“Salt, holy water and goofer dust rounds, silver, a box of devil’s trap bullets Cas carved fresh this morning, iron. Basically a little bit of everything we had on hand. Couple extra angel blades. Something for everyone.”

“That’s great and all, but is there actually a plan for any of it?” Ed asked hesitantly. “Or are we just gonna march up to these guys in broad daylight basically covered in weapons? Because that doesn’t seem like much of a plan.”

Dean reached down and unzipped the bag closest to him without looking away from Ed and grabbed out a set of binoculars and a weird looking antenna thing. “We’re gonna go in covert if we can, scope the scene out, and then react accordingly.”

“You still have Frank’s creepy surveillance shit?” Sam replied, half in awe and half horrified.

“No,” Dean said, frowning and setting his antenna microphone down. “I made a better one. You know technology has advanced in the last decade.”

Sam shook his head, but once again, Cas beamed at him while Ed watched on, taking mental notes. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ed finally spoke up again.

“I drove out past the the little tourist park they have at the geographical center, and there’s not really a lot out there. It’s a blink and you’ll miss it stone monument out in the middle of a huge field, with a picnic shelter, a flag pole, and a shed.”

“It’s a chapel,” Sam replied.

“Whatever,” Ed pressed on. “Point is, there’s not a lot for them to film. What’s their reason for being there? No way in hell is that place haunted. Especially with you guys living practically next door.”

“You sent us that video,” Sam pointed out. “You suspected they were faking the hauntings with borrowed ghosts or death echoes. Not being legitimately haunted hasn’t stopped them from finding a way to bring in real ghosts.”

“DIY hauntings,” Dean said derisively. “Smuggling ghosts. What’s next, are they gonna branch out to UFO sightings, or maybe they found bigfoot.”

“You know bigfoot’s not real,” Sam replied. “And I’ve had enough of fake aliens to last a lifetime, thanks.”

“Okay…” Ed said, trying desperately to keep the conversation on track. “But the point stands, there’s not a lot of cover for _us_ to be doing anything covertly out there. Unless we hide in the sh-- uh, the _chapel_ , we’re gonna be out on plain sight. They’re gonna see us trying to spy on them.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, they are. So we’re gonna go out there like a bunch of tourists with a cooler full of beer and snacks and set up shop at the picnic tables.”

“Sure, and the army surplus gear bags full of weapons and ammo won’t look out of place at all,” Ed said.

Dean snorted. “We do own a cooler, you know.”

“I thought you planned to put the food in the cooler?” Cas asked.

“Beer goes in the cooler. I got a cold bag for the food. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“So, what, we all just sit there roasting weenies and drinking beer until they show up? We could be there all day. You don’t think they’ll get suspicious when we’re just camped out there?’

“Unless they’re also staking the place out, even after they bothered to file for a filming permit, then probably not,” Sam assured him. “Are most of their videos similar to the one you sent us?”

“You mean how they usually show up a few hours before sunset to scope a place out, and then start the fake ghost hunt after dark?” Ed waited for confirmation from Sam, and went on when Sam raised an affirmative eyebrow. “Yeah, mostly. So you think if we set up a few hours before sundown we won’t have to wait long for them to show.”

“That’s the theory,” Dean replied.

“Then what do we do when they actually show up?” Ed asked, to which everyone else gave a shrug.

“We do what we always do,” Dean replied vaguely, and then went back to finishing his breakfast in earnest.

They spent the rest of the morning and the early part of the afternoon going over every possible scenario they could think of, and making a rough plan for each of them. The only thing they were relatively sure about was that they were only dealing with the four individuals they’d watched in the video. Whether one or more of them was leading the rest, or all four of them were purely human and being manipulated by some outside force remained to be seen. If that was the case, there was no telling what they might actually be facing once the sun went down.

After a quick lunch, Dean packed up a couple of the reusable grocery bags Cas had made him buy. _They’re better for the environment, Dean. The sign says so._ He stowed everything he needed to make burgers, including the little hibachi grill and a bag of charcoal. He’d been saving it for a lazy summer evening, but nobody ever said that evening couldn’t also be part of a hunt. While he was busy making burger patties, Cas filled the cooler with ice, beer, sodas, and then consecrated a gallon jug of water, just in case. If they actually got thirsty, they could drink it; but in a pinch, nothing beat ice cold holy water for messing with demons on a hot summer night.

Dean double checked all his personal weapons, and then guided Cas through the process of stashing as wide a variety of guns and knives about his person as humanly possible. They couldn’t exactly wear full hunter gear, heavy coats and all, and still look like a believable bunch of casually picnicking friends.

The plan was to wait, and then to observe and learn as much as they could, and hope they were prepared to deal with whatever they discovered. When Dean was finished packing up the food, Sam and Ed helped carry everything out to the garage. Sam stopped by the gym on the way and picked up a football, tossing it one handed into the air a few times and grinning maniacally at Dean.

“I figure we can play a little two on two.”

“What, you and me against Cas and Ed?” Dean asked as they climbed the steps into the garage. “That doesn’t really seem fair. Cas ain’t never played, and Ed doesn’t really strike me as a sports enthusiast.”

“Hey, I can throw a football. I didn’t have a totally deprived childhood,” Ed retorted.

“I don’t think it looks all that difficult,” Cas added. “I’ve watched football with you enough to understand the general principles. It can’t be all that different from throwing an angel blade, and I’ve been doing that since before humans existed.”

Dean snorted and grinned at him. “Okay, then you’re on my team,” he said as they walked right past the Impala to Cas’s big silver pickup truck.

Ed frowned at the familiar beast of a car and gave her a longing look as he shuffled in front of her. “So we’re not taking your sweet ride?”

“Nah, we’re going incognito,” Dean replied, loading everything into the bed of the truck, including a couple of lawn chairs and a portable radio.

Sam brought a few essentials from the Impala’s trunk and stashed them in the truck, too. Spare shotguns loaded with salt rounds, extra salt, and a box of witch killing bullets just in case. He handed Ed an antipossession amulet, but Ed just shook his head.

“I read all the books, remember?” He pulled down the collar of his shirt revealing the same tattoo Sam and Dean had had for years, and which Dean had made Cas get the day after he became permanently human. “I might not deal with demons most of the time, but it seemed idiotic as a hunter not to get one anyway.”

Dean shook his head, impressed. “Well, you’re one of the first hunters I’ve ever met who was smart enough to realize that.”

Ed took that as the compliment it was and slid into the back seat of the truck’s cab. Cas climbed in after him, and then Dean got behind the wheel. They made the short drive out to the geographical center in silence, each of them psyching themselves up for whatever they were about to face.


	5. Chapter 5

The tiny park bore more of a resemblance to a glorified traffic circle out in the middle of the prairie than any sort of official state park had a right to. It wasn’t much more than a little triangle cut out along the side of the road at the Y intersection of a couple of dirt roads. It didn’t even have a proper parking lot, so Dean pulled off the main road and drove around to the back side of the park, not quite hidden from the main road and picnic area by a little copse of trees, but not out in obvious plain sight either. He edged Cas’s truck as far off the dirt road as possible and shut off the engine while surveying the territory.

“Doesn’t look like they’re here yet,” Sam muttered.

“And there aren’t any civilians around to get in the way,” Ed added as Sam and Dean got out of the truck.

Dean snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a tourist mecca. Guess there’s not a lot of Unnatural Evil groupies in the area, either.”

“Good,” Sam said, opening the tailgate of the truck and grabbing the cooler, while Ed surveyed the whole lotta nothing stretching out to the horizon in every direction and muttered, “There’s not really much of anything in the area.”

Dean rolled his eyes and followed after Sam, balancing the hibachi on a big bag of charcoal. Sam took in the picnic area, which included a little grill mounted on a post, and then glanced back at Dean.

“We probably don’t need the grill. There’s already one here.” Sam gestured at it with his elbow while determining which of the two tables beneath the pavilion would be the better location to set the cooler and its hidden surveillance equipment down on.

“Ew, gross, Sam,” Dean said, stopping just outside the shelter and setting his nice, clean grill down on a clear patch of ground. “There’s probably mice nesting in it or some shit. And when do you think the last time it was cleaned was? Because I’m betting it was never.”

Sam made a face at Dean and then frowned at the grill. He made his way over to it and slowly lifted the lid. No creatures bolted for freedom, and the only thing inside was the mostly burned remains of the previous charcoal fire.

“I think it’s probably safe to use. I mean, we’re gonna light it on fire anyway.” Sam added with a smirk, “I can salt and exorcise it too, if you think it’s necessary.”

Dean didn’t pay him any mind and was already halfway to getting his hibachi burning. He tossed a match into the coals and nodded with satisfaction when they caught and began to smolder.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“Where do you want these?” Ed said, holding up two tote bags full of groceries while Cas followed behind him with their gear bag full of weapons.

Dean stood up and examined Ed’s bags, poking into one and then the other. He grabbed the one with all the meat.

“I’ll take this one. You can put the other over there by the cooler.”

Sam barely contained a snort as he walked back to the truck for their final bags, and muttered under his breath just loud enough for Dean to hear, “Meat man.”

“Hey, you’re damn right!” Dean said, pulling out the barbecue tools and poking at the now flaming coals with a big pair of tongs. “And you’re gonna appreciate that fact as soon as I get these burgers on the grill.”

Sam waved over his shoulder without looking back, and Dean proceeded to ignore his brother while they finished setting up. If anyone had actually driven past the park, they would’ve seen what looked like a group of friends taking advantage of a pleasant summer evening. Dean schooled Cas in the proper preparation of a grill while Sam and Ed set out everything else they’d brought to eat from chips to condiments. Dean and Cas were so absorbed in the proper art of grilling meat that they didn’t even notice Ed’s increasingly pointed stares between them and Sam. For his part, Sam did a lot of head shaking and grimacing to deflect whatever potential conversation Ed wanted to have. They had more important conversations to handle first, like how best to set up the listening devices they’d begun surreptitiously planting around the area.

Dean had even thought to pack a tablecloth that provided a bit of extra cover to his surveillance microphone and protected their food from whatever had previously befouled the outdoor tables. He left it up to Ed to set up their covert recording equipment, since he didn’t trust Ed to handle the grilling and it gave the guy something productive to do while the rest of them kept an eye out for their targets.

They’d never really seen Ed at his hunting best, but had to trust and assume that if he hadn’t gotten himself killed in the last six or seven years, then he probably wasn’t going to be a liability. Dean figured at the very least he was qualified to set up the tech stuff without putting all their lives in imminent danger. For the rest, he’d reserve judgment until after they all made it home safe again.

It was a bit early for dinner, considering they’d already had a big breakfast and a late lunch, but Dean firmly believed that his burgers deserved to be fully appreciated. The longer they put off cooking, the more likely they’d be interrupted by the hunt that had brought them there in the first place. Either the burgers would have to be abandoned on the grill and left to become overcooked hockey pucks, or else abandoned on plates only half eaten. Dean couldn’t decide which disappointing scenario would be worse as he flipped the last burger onto a plate and stood up from where he’d been hunched over the grill.

“Soup’s on.”

They didn’t bother clearing up much after they ate. The dirty plates went in the trash and perishables slowly replaced beer bottles in the cooler, but they strategically left everything else out to give the appearance that they were still mid-picnic. It wouldn’t have been much of a cover story if they packed everything away and just sat there twiddling their thumbs until their presumed bad guys showed up.

When they’d recovered enough from eating to haul themselves up off the benches again, Dean suggested they run a few tests of their surveillance equipment. He grabbed the football Sam had brought and handed Ed the headphones connected up to his homemade recording device.

“This looks suspiciously like an old Walkman,” Ed said, turning the device over in his hand.

“That’s because it is an old Walkman,” Dean replied in a near whisper, knowing his device would deliver every word directly to Ed’s ears. “It’s big enough to hide a decent sized hard drive, audio receiver and battery, and small enough to fit in my pocket.”

Ed raised an eyebrow at him, impressed. “Okay, then. Let’s run it through its paces and we can figure out where we need to plant the rest of the mics.”

Sam and Dean tossed the football back and forth, taunting each other as they overthrew each other, and joking about not wanting to run or jump to catch the ball so soon after eating. Cas stayed just out of range, observing but not yet joining in the game. Every once in a while he’d glance over at Ed as he circled the perimeter of the park. When Ed gave him a thumbs up, Cas would plant another microphone-- one in a low branch of a tree, one hidden in the grass at the foundation of the little chapel, and another in the copse of trees concealing their truck. As best as they could tell, they had the entire park wired for sound. Unless their marks could communicate telepathically, they should be covered. When everything was set up, Ed carefully set the recorder down and meandered over to where Cas was now fully absorbed in watching Sam and Dean’s game.

“You think they’re gonna let us play?” Ed asked, and Cas shrugged.

Dean caught the perfectly thrown ball from Sam and turned on Cas with a grin. “You wanna piece of this action?”

Cas laughed and held up his hands waiting for Dean to toss the ball. The four of them passed it around, talking and laughing over mundane nonsense, but never getting so wrapped up in the game they forgot why they were there in the first place. A truck drove by just as Sam was supposed to be tossing the ball to Dean, and he threw it so far over Dean’s head that Cas ended up running nearly out to the road to catch it, which he did rather spectacularly. It gave everyone an excellent excuse to watch the truck trundle past without looking like they’d been waiting for it. To their dismay, the driver didn’t even bother to notice Cas’s impressive catch and kept right on down the road without a hint of stopping.

Cas threw the ball to Dean and then jogged over to him to talk.

“Shouldn’t they have arrived by now?” Cas asked, glancing from Dean to Ed. “Are we sure that it’s supposed to happen tonight?”

Dean made to toss the ball to Ed and hesitated. As far off down th road as he could see-- which was pretty damn far out on the open prairie-- another vehicle was slowly approaching. He lined up his throw and released the ball, sending it spiraling right into Ed’s outstretched hands, and then gave Sam a significant nod. A big black camper crept its way toward the park, and Dean gave it even odds on being their guys.

“I think they’re about to show up, Cas.”

They kept their game of catch going, and as the camper pulled up and came to a stop right at the edge of the road in front of the park, Dean gave the driver what he hoped was a friendly little wave. It seemed the generic midwestern thing to do.

The driver just blinked at him, and Dean vaguely recognized him as one of the cameramen from the video they’d watched. Davis, if he wasn’t mistaken. Davis turned to talk to someone in the back of the camper and then shrugged and eased the behemoth back onto the road. He pulled around onto the dirt road on the far side of the park and finally shut off the engine just as the door to the camper opened and Lorna emerged.

“It’s showtime,” Dean muttered to Cas at his side, before yelling out, “Hey Ed, throw it here!”

That prompt snapped Ed out of the borderline creepy stare he’d fixed on the camper and its emerging occupants, and their game continued despite their new company. Their play went from a casual game of catch to what could’ve been a full-fledged game of two on two if the grassy area they’d taken over was any larger. As it was, they were limited to throwing the ball to where they weren’t so that someone would invariably need to run to make the catch. All the while, they were keeping an inconspicuous eye on the newcomers.

As for the film crew, they stood outside their camper watching this impromptu football game with abject confusion for a minute or two, until Sam finally sent a carefully aimed throw right over Dean’s head immediately followed by a slightly panicked shout of, “my bad, my bad” directed toward the stunned onlookers. They parted as Dean barreled toward them and made a perfect leaping catch a few feet in front of where they’d been standing. It had been exactly the opportunity they’d been hoping to engineer.

“Heh, sorry about that,” Dean said. “We had the park to ourselves all afternoon and I guess we got a little carried away.”

Wulf looked like he was about to speak, but it was Lorna who managed to do the talking first. She didn’t bother with pleasantries, but moved directly to her point, producing a stack of official looking documents that Dean immediately realized must be the permits she’d filed.

“We have permission from the local government to set up and film in this park today.”

Dean gave her a winning smile and swept one arm around the park. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

This attitude didn’t win over Lorna, but earned him a tiny smile from Wulf. Of course that would amuse the creepy dude in the black turtleneck with the ornate silver cross hanging around his neck. Lorna sputtered at him for a moment before finally composing herself and taking a different tack. She straightened her shoulders and came at him like a lawyer, which Dean did his best not to laugh at considering she was five foot nothing and dressed like she shopped exclusively at the Hot Topical’s post-Halloween clearance bin.

“I think you’ll find that our permit guarantees us full, uninterrupted access to the entire park. We’re setting up sensitive scientific equipment,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Dean and then glaring down at the football he was still tossing back and forth between his hands. “Equipment that is incompatible with amateur sports hour.”

Dean made a choked off laughing sound but stepped back with his hands raised. “Got it, no more football. But it’s gonna take us a while to get _our_ sensitive equipment packed up safely.” He gestured over at his little hibachi, the coals at the bottom still smoldering and sending up a steady stream of smoke. “Can’t just toss that in the back seat like that.”

Lorna looked as if she was considering marching over there and doing just that, but a tap on her shoulder from one of the cameramen, Zane, had her settling her ruffled feathers and giving Dean her best customer service smile.

“Sure, that’s probably fine. Just as long as you’re cleared out before dark.”

Lorna turned on her heel and marched back into the camper, presumably to begin assembling her _sensitive scientific equipment_. The two camera operators exchanged a glance and a shrug and followed after her. That just left Wulf loitering just a little closer to Dean than he’d expected. Dean was immediately on guard, since this was their suspected demon or witch or other as yet to be determined bad guy.

“So, you’re not part of the technical crew?” Dean asked. “You leave the sciencey stuff to the nerds?”

Wulf frowned at Dean’s attempt at casual conversation and took a step closer. Dean mightily resisted the urge to take a step back, and was rewarded for it.

“I deal with my own technicalities,” Wulf said, and then cleared his throat and looked around nervously. Which Cas found interesting enough to move up beside Dean and squint hard at the guy. Wulf smiled, and then gave Cas a weird little bow, and spoke in hushed tones. “I think you know exactly the sort of technicalities I deal in.”

Dean turned to Cas, who blinked at Wulf before nodding slowly.

“You know who I am,” Cas said plainly. “Or who I was, at least.”

“I’m hoping you’re still enough of that to help me,” Wulf said, a hint of desperation coming through in his tone that startled them both.

“You need help?” Dean asked, realization dawning over his features. “You know exactly who we are. You wanted to lure us out here today.”

A thumping noise and a few muffled curses emanated from the camper, and Wulf cast a concerned glance back at it before speaking louder again. “Why don’t you let me help you collect your belongings. We’re going to need to begin filming shortly.”

Dean gave him a nod and he and Cas turned to escort Wulf over toward the picnic shelter. Ed and Sam had moved back toward their picnic table, but rather than cleaning up they were both pretending to rock out to some song on a couple pairs of headphones. Dean knew they were attempting to monitor whatever was being said inside the camper, as well as keeping an ear on whatever Wulf was up to. He gave Sam a covert hand gesture, spinning one finger in a circle to confirm Sam as listening, and Sam gave an extra-vigorous head bob to confirm it.

When they were out of easy earshot of the camper, Wulf began laying out what had to have been a well rehearsed speech.

“You’re the Winchesters and the fallen angel Castiel. My name really is Wulf, and I desperately need your help. My story is too long to give you the details, but I’m trapped here and powerless to free myself and… and my true love.” He said that part with resignation, as if it was a shameful thing to admit to, but then smiled up at Cas. “But I hoped that you of all people would understand my predicament.”

“You’re not a demon,” Cas said plainly, picking up on Wulf’s urgency and not beating around the bush. “And I know you’re not human.”

Wulf shook his head. “I’m a reaper. I’ve been unable to contact Billie for assistance, and I don’t even know that she could help me out of this mess. She gave me permission for… for a leave of absence for a time, and in doing so I surrendered much of my power.”

“Yes,” Cas replied. “I think I do understand your dilemma. Is that why you’ve attached yourself to Lorna and her associates?”

The horrified look that flashed across Wulf’s face at the suggestion confirmed that he was not there of his own free will. At least, not entirely.

“No, Lorna has a certain power over the dead. Or rather, she has something in her possession that does. I sensed her in New Orleans, while on, uh, sabbatical. She had just learned her new trick, and I took leave of my compatriot in order to investigate the disturbance I’d felt. I wasn’t expecting that her power could affect me or my companion as strongly as it did, but he became ensnared by her spell. I chose to use what powers I’d retained to first ingratiate myself to her, and then to keep myself useful to her until I could find a solution. I’ve been bringing forth entrapped spirits and freeing them along the way, as I assume you saw in one of her films. It’s the only thing that’s kept me sane through this ordeal, honestly. She was looking for new location ideas, and I suggested the Geographical Center, hoping the notion of ley lines converging in the area would appeal to her aesthetic enough to lure her to your backyard, and that you would notice what we were doing here.”

“And if we hadn’t showed up?” Dean asked.

Wulf shrugged. “Then I would’ve made a desperate bid to escape and find you on my own. But you are here, and I’d prefer not to linger on the what if’s.”

“So you’re trapped and need us to help you get free,” Cas said. “What do you expect us to be able to do?”

“Tonight? Most likely nothing. I wasn’t even sure you would be here, but I do have this,” Wulf said, glancing back at the trailer where more noises seemed to indicate that their little bubble of privacy was about to shatter. He reached into his pocket and handed a folded packet of papers to Dean.

Dean hesitated for a moment and then took the offered parcel. He began unfolding them but Wulf stayed his hand with a look of panic on his face.

“No, not here. Everything I know, everything you need to know is in there, but Lorna must not know the contents of those pages, at all costs.”

Dean glanced at Cas, and then at the camper, and tucked the folded pages into his pocket.

“Why don’t you leave with us, then?” Dean asked. “We got a safe place near here, and you can tell us yourself?”

“I… I can’t. Just read it. You’ll know what to do next. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, Wulf turned and strolled back to the camper, turning one last time to give them a solemn nod before steeling himself and going back inside. Cas laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder and got them moving again.

“We can come back tomorrow for your recording equipment, but I think we should go now.”

Dean knew Sam and Ed had picked up their entire conversation when the two of them sprang into action at Cas’s suggestion. It was the work of only a few minutes to get all their things, minus the microphones hidden around the park and the recording transmitter Dean stashed in a flower bed at the base of the park’s small stone monument packed up and loaded into the back of the truck. The big jug of iced holy water they’d brought came in handy cooling off and rinsing the ashes out of Dean’s hibachi. Lorna threw them a nasty look at the sizzling cloud of steam that rose from the embers of their fire, but quickly schooled it into what passed for her customer service face, Dean supposed. He gave her an overly cheerful wave as they drove off. From the other side of the park, Wulf gave them another grateful nod as they pulled back onto the blacktop and headed for home.

“Well, so much for this being an easy one,” Dean muttered when they’d put a bit of distance behind them. “How the hell did a reaper ever get caught up in this shit in the first place? You’d think Billie would’ve noticed one of her guys went missing.”

“Perhaps she has,” Cas suggested.

Dean gave him a questioning look in the rearview mirror, and Cas smiled as the look of comprehension dawned in Dean’s reflected eyes.

“You mean like when Rowena was killing reapers a few years back?” Dean asked.

“Something along those lines,” Cas replied.

Meanwhile Ed sat impatiently waiting for someone to explain what they were talking about. “First off, who the hell is Billie?” Ed asked when he couldn’t take it any longer. “And why are we just packing this all in? So what if the guy isn’t a demon. He’s still fucking with ghosts, right? So now we’re, what, helping _him_? You just trust this guy that easily?”

Dean laughed and shook his head, exchanging a glance with Sam, and then Cas. “I think it’s time to bust out a few of those long stories we were trying to avoid.”

By the time they got back to the bunker, after Dean made a stop for more alcohol, Ed regrettably had the entire rundown of their previous dealings with Death. As they unpacked the truck, Ed was careful to grab the large bottle of whiskey Dean had bought and ambled off cradling it to his chest like an infant.

“I think I’m gonna need this.”

Dean just nodded at him in approval and commiseration as they made their way to the library. It was gonna be a long night.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sat Ed down in one of the comfy chairs in the library and handed him a crystal tumbler. Ed stared at him blankly for a minute before accepting the glass and cracking open the bottle. After supervising to make sure Ed was still coherent enough to pour himself a drink without sloshing it all over the place, Dean left him there while the rest of them put away the rest of their gear. It was the work of only a few minutes before they all joined Ed in the library.

Sam opened a cold beer for himself, while Dean poured whiskey for himself and Cas, and then topped off Ed’s glass and brought the bottle over to the table. He wasn’t about to let Ed drink himself into a coma, and figured the guy would at least have to prove he could still shamble across the room to pour himself another glass. Dean pulled Wulf’s letter out of his pocket and then slumped down in a chair, kicking his feet up on the table and tossing the folded papers down in front of Cas.

“Why don’t you do the honors. You’re the one most likely to understand the sort of shit a reaper could get himself tangled up in,” Dean said, giving Cas a pointed look he hoped would remind Cas of the first time he’d sent Dean into a demon-infested town to save a reaper.

It obviously worked, because Cas set his drink down and picked up the letter without complaint, and began reading. The letter began without preamble or introduction. Just like reapers prefer, it went straight to the point.

“I had the strange and unusual pleasure of befriending a psychic in the district of New Orleans where I had been stationed,” Cas began, and then took a sip of his whiskey. “This was a long time ago, measured in human years, but for me it has barely qualified as a brief moment in a very long existence. Nevertheless, time always seemed to slow for me in his presence, and my time with him became for me the most important and meaningful I’d ever spent.”

Cas paused, his voice breaking over the words, and stared at Dean for a moment. Dean gave him an encouraging nod but didn’t say anything before Cas continued.

“A year ago, as my friend lay dying of old age at the end a long life well lived, he begged me not to leave him. He knew what I was, and what my duty was to every human soul. I took leave from Billie, knowing that I could not abandon Louis to an eternity in Heaven alone. I stayed by his side for those last months, and he confessed that he loved me, that he had always loved me, and I knew that when he departed, I would not be returning to Earth alone. His soul, for want of a better description, had become part of me, and I a part of him. I didn’t even know it was possible for something such as I am to feel this way for a human, but my time with Louis had changed me irrevocably.”

It was Dean who flinched this time, letting his feet drop to the floor and sitting up in rapt attention at the words Cas read. It didn’t matter that Sam and Ed were both staring at them, or that they hadn’t yet found the right moment to lay the facts about their relationship out for Sam. Wulf’s words were serving as their confession by proxy, and the way they continued to gaze at each other was all the proof Sam should need if he’d ever been paying attention for one second of his life. Cas cleared his throat and continued reading.

“I hadn’t been paying enough attention to what had been happening on a cosmic level, or I surely would’ve sensed what Lorna had been doing in the region I’d once overseen. Unfortunately, just after Louis died, Lorna activated a soul-trapping spell somewhere in the vicinity, and I was unable to save him. I was still bound to him, and was pulled along by her spell. I sought her out, learned what she had done and what she intended to do with her collection of trapped souls, and was horrified. She trapped them in crystals, and had been experimenting with attempting to release them strategically for the purposes of filming their anguish as she banished them again for a television show.”

Dean and Cas both cast a glance over at Sam, Dean’s filled with guilt that he’d once suggested they trap Eileen in just such a crystal. Knowing first-hand from a reaper that it was an agonizing existence, despite the alternative of an eternity in Hell or eventually turning vengeful on Earth, still didn’t make the suggestion feel any kinder in retrospect. Sam shook his head, acknowledging Dean’s guilt and absolving him of it. It never needed to come to pass, it was all okay now anyway. When he was satisfied that Sam and Dean’s conversation was done, Cas continued.

“Of course I couldn’t let that stand. I introduced myself to Lorna the following evening, presenting myself as a demonologist and spiritual medium. She believed that I had a “psychic gift” that allowed me to sense her own gift, and still has not realized my true nature. I gave her a demonstration of my powers, conjuring and banishing a death echo-- not a true human soul but only a memory frozen in time-- and it was enough to convince her to abandon her plans to experiment on the souls her magic had entrapped. I needed to discover the full extent of her crimes against humanity, and to uncover the store of souls she’d kidnapped. I sensed Louis among her collection, but I don’t know of a way to free him from that prison without risking irreparable damage to his soul, and I cannot abide that. I’m unwilling to put any human soul at risk to free them from her imprisonment. Which is why I’ve been biding my time, dropping hints that I hoped you would see in the programs Lorna broadcast. The black eyes, the wretched parody of an exorcism, and using what little power is left to me to put on the most dramatically demonic show I could muster.

“I fear there will come a time, and soon, when my dwindling power will fail to satisfy Lorna’s aesthetic sensibilities, and she’ll either demand I find a way to free her trapped soul collection, or worse, abandon me altogether and make the attempt on her own. I fear the consequences of allowing that to happen.”

Cas paused and looked to Dean, who shrugged.

“So we throw Lorna’s rock collection into the to be saved pile. What are we supposed to do about freeing them all if a reaper can’t figure it out, though?”

“We do have Rowena’s spellbooks,” Sam said, getting up and going over to the shelf where her collection was being stored. “Worst case scenario, we give her a call and ask her advice.”

“He does say he’s relinquished a good deal of his powers,” Cas added, pointing at the letter in his hands. “It’s possible that another reaper, or even Billie could offer us guidance or a solution.”

“Just when we get the universe off our backs, you wanna bring the cosmic powers back into our lives on purpose,” Dean muttered under his breath.

Cas gave him an understanding smile. “I know, Dean. But this sounds like the sort of interference with the cosmic order that Billie should at least be made aware of. We just got everything put back to rights, it would be a bad start of it if we were to inadvertently set off a chain reaction of unbalancing events ourselves.”

Sam nodded his agreement as he sat back down with a stack of Rowena’s journals and got to work trying to find the details of her spell. When Dean’s only response to that was to shake his head and take another sip of his whiskey, Cas held up the letter.

“There’s still a bit more. Should I continue reading?”

From across the room, it was Ed who finally chimed in. “Not that anyone’s asking me, here, but no, I’d personally rather revert to a state where I wasn’t on first-name terms with Death. But since I brought this bullshit to your doorstep, I feel like we really need to follow through now.”

Dean leaned to the side enough to get a good look at Ed around Cas, and grinned at him. “Trust me, this is so much less awful than dealing with demons. At least Billie’s gonna come down on the side of not fucking over the natural order, which actually works in our favor for once.”

“I tend to agree with Dean,” Cas cut in, “but I’d prefer to do what we can on our own before resorting to calling in the big guns, as Dean would call them.”

A smile spread across Dean’s face that he attempted to hide behind his whiskey glass, but everyone in the room caught it anyway. Cas smiled serenely back at him while Sam and Ed shared a silent conversation behind Cas’s back. Their exchange ended pointedly when Sam dove back into Rowena’s journals. Ed finally made his way over to the table, though, refilling his whiskey glass and then sitting down beside Sam to peruse the journals himself. When Sam gave him a questioning look, Ed shrugged.

“Gonna at least pretend like I’m helping,” Ed said. “Even if all of this is about ten levels above my pay grade.”

Sam nodded his approval, and Dean and Cas finished whatever weird flirting-not-flirting thing they were doing. Cas picked up the letter and read the rest of it.

“I hope that you can help. I know that you’ve used similar spells to contain the souls of the departed, and I’d prefer not to resort to begging Billie for her assistance now. My separation from her service was conditional, and I fear that--even in the course of executing my duty to maintain the natural order and free these souls-- if I fail to free them without her interference I don’t want to face the consequences of that bargain. I stand to lose too much, personally. All the souls in creation cannot make up for the loss of the one I hold most dear. And yet dozens are in peril because I failed to act in time, so consumed I had become by the one.”

Cas sighed, glanced up at Dean, but resisted the urge to stare at him again despite Dean not having taken his eyes from Cas the entire time. They could deal with a resurgence of their personal guilt later. Right now they had a mission to take care of. Cas pressed on to the end.

“I hope this message has reached you in time to help. We will likely leave this town in the morning. I don’t expect immediate action, but I fear what will happen if Lorna is not stopped soon. She’s continued to collect souls despite our arrangement. She doesn’t know that I’m aware of her extracurricular activities, since she has yet to uncover my true identity. There’s not much more I can do, aside from defending her prisoners with my life. I await your advice and assistance.”

Cas continued reading silently to himself, and then summed up the ending of the letter.

“He goes on to detail their expected itinerary for the next several days, and gives a phone number where we can contact him in case of emergency.”

Dean reached across the table and slid the final page back over in front of himself. He pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text, simply stating “We’re on it.”

“Now he’s got my number, too,” Dean said. He’d been about to put his phone back in his pocket when it dinged in his hand. The reply read, “Thank you.”

Dean set the phone down on the table just in case Wulf texted him again, and then waited a moment before addressing the room.

“So we know how to trap souls in those stones, but do we need some sorta spell to let them out again?”

“How’d you free them before?” Ed asked. “Or am I better off not knowing?”

Dean laughed. “You’re always better off not knowing when it comes to most of the shit we’ve had to deal with, just as a general rule.”

Cas rolled his eyes at Dean and turned to give Ed a real answer. “The first time we used a spell like this, we had help from Billie. She entrapped thousands of souls, but the spell to remove them implanted them directly into Dean.”

Ed gave Dean a horrified look, as if he could see all those souls still writhing inside Dean if he stared hard enough.

“Man, they’re not still in here,” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“It’s not a tenable solution to our current situation,” Cas added to bring them all back around to the matter at hand. “It effectively made Dean into a walking bomb. The power contained in that many souls could potentially destroy the world.”

“Yeah, and I ain’t volunteering for that job again,” Dean added.

“Oooookay,” Ed eventually replied, and then turned curious. “So how did you get them out of _you_ without, you know…”

“Without going boom?” Dean asked with a smirk. “God took them off me for the low low price of fucking us over for years afterward.”

“And don’t forget about the decades of fucking us over before that,” Sam muttered before diving back into his research.

After a beat, Cas continued answering Ed’s original question. “The only other time we’ve used this spell, Rowena used it to trap damned souls that had escaped from Hell.”

“Please tell me she didn’t let them go again,” Ed said, horrified.

“She flung herself into Hell and dragged them with her,” Sam replied tersely, slamming her journal shut. He pushed his chair back from the table and walked out of the room.

Ed’s eyes followed Sam’s retreating form until he disappeared around the corner. He turned a puzzled look on Dean, and then Cas. Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Guess it’s my turn to do some explaining.”

Ten minutes later, after Ed had been caught up on at least the very basic situation they’d all just survived starting with Rowena’s sacrifice, and ending with Chuck getting his comeuppance and Rowena getting a second chance, he sat there staring between Dean and Cas, opening and closing his mouth. Eventually he managed a coherent sentence.

“So you mean Sam lost two girlfriends to Hell, and now that they’re both resurrected, neither one will speak to him anymore?”

Dean made a face at Ed’s assessment, but Cas just nodded and clarified things a bit.

“Technically they both speak to him, but Eileen is taking some time to find herself again, and Rowena is adjusting to life without the natural powers she’d been born with. The price of resurrection can sometimes be quite steep.”

Dean gave Cas a considering look, knowing what Cas had fully voluntarily chosen to give up to be there right then, with him. It was only incidentally what the reaper Wulf was in the process of surrendering for the sake of one human soul he loved. And Rowena, too, had been given that choice, and had chosen life even if that meant an entirely new kind of life. And she’d done it for Sam. She’d only asked for a few months to ensure her past wouldn’t follow her into their future.

“Yeah, she dumped her entire library on us and said she needed to take care of a few remnants of her old life,” Dean added. “Sam offered to go with her, but she insisted she needed to handle it alone. She checks in every day with us, but she won’t tell Sam what she’s doing, or when she’ll be back. It’s kinda grating on him.”

Ed nodded. “Probably best not to ask, then.”

Dean just nodded and picked up the book Sam had abandoned when he’d stormed out. Twenty minutes later, Sam came back and joined them without a word. Twenty minutes after that, Cas sat bolt upright in his chair and set the book he’d been going through down in front of Sam.

“This is it, the spell to free souls trapped in crystals,” he said, jabbing a finger at the list of ingredients on the page. “I think we have everything we need here, except the stones themselves.”

“Do we wanna hunt them down tonight?” Dean asked, looking at his watch. “It’s not even midnight yet. They might still be out at the park filming.”

“You left all the recording equipment out there,” Ed said. “Do you have a way to listen in on them from here?”

Dean shrugged and got up from the table. “Hang on a sec.” He ran back to his room, rummaged through his bag of gear until he found the radio unit he’d modified to connect to his recording rig, and fiddled with the controls as he walked back to the library. He set the radio on the table and they all flinched and cringed as the unit squealed and squawked until they finally picked out the faint sound of voices between the static.

_Did we get enough B roll of the corn field?_

That was Lorna’s voice, and one of the camera guys replied after a few clicking sounds.

_If half an hour chasing rabbits through corn stalks isn’t enough, we can always come back out tomorrow night. Or like, hit up any corn field between here and Minnesota._

As they all strained to hear whatever was being said on the radio, Cas referred back to Wulf’s letter.

“Wulf said their next destination is the Superior National Forest in Minnesota.”

“Well, that’s something,” Sam replied. “If we don’t catch them before they leave Kansas, we could always have Donna hold them up in Hibbing until we can get there.”

Dean frowned at that. “I’d rather not send a reaper and a power happy soul thief to Donna’s doorstep if we can help it.”

Sam shrugged. “Is there anything Donna can’t handle, though? Jody would probably drive out if we asked her to help, too.”

“And she’d bring Claire and Kaia. And we’d _still_ have to drive all the way to Minnesota to fix this mess,” Dean countered.

“Like that’s not an incentive for you,” Sam replied with a grin. “Get the whole family together for a good old fashioned monster round up.”

Dean shrugged. “Seems like a waste of everyone’s time when the four of us are right here, right now, and our bad guy is literally in our back yard while we’re sitting here planning a party.”

Ed watched their back and forth, completely confused as to who any of these people they were discussing were. Though he recognized the name Jody from the Supernatural books, he wasn’t sure if they were talking about the same person. If they were, he couldn’t imagine them dragging a reaper to that poor woman’s doorstep. He swiveled back to Sam just in time to see him nod in concession.

“You’re right. We should still give them a call and see what they’re all doing next weekend. Maybe we can have them come here for a visit for a change.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and stood up, picking up the journal with the list of necessary spell ingredients. “Yeah, you just want to recruit them for your storage room organization project.” Sam tilted his head from side to side in concession as Dean began gathering ingredients and equipment. “But yeah, we’ll issue engraved invitations in the morning. Be nice to have everyone get together for something other than the end of the world for once.”

Dean gathered all the ingredients and set them down in front of Sam. With Cas’s assistance, they were confident that the spell had worked. The only thing they needed now was to figure out how to carry out the final step.

“So, what, we just mix this up and put it in a squirt bottle or something?” Dean asked as Sam stirred the steaming bowl of potion. “Then sneak into their trailer and febreeze a bunch of souls out of their rock prisons?”

“For lack of a better plan…” Sam said, finishing the potion and setting down the spoon, staring around the room as if hoping something better would leap off one of the shelves.

Ed, sitting at the opposite end of the table and watching this entire ritual with fascination, didn’t even look up from the last wisps of smoke evaporating above the bowl and still managed to make a fair point. “We don’t even know that’s where they are. For all we know, Lorna’s got them piled up in her spare bedroom, wherever she lives.”

“Do you think she’d really let them too far out of her sight, if she knows what she’s actually got? And how many stones do you think she’s got? Rowena crammed hundreds into one, and Billie crammed like a million in that other one.” Dean shook his head. “Wulf should be able to tell us if we got ‘em all. Souls are kinda his thing.”

“He said several times in his letter that his powers are waning,” Cas replied. “But there should be another reaper in the area to help usher the liberated souls to their destinations. If nothing else, we can confirm with them that there are no more trapped souls to be freed.”

Dean shuddered. “Yeah, hopefully it won’t come to that, for Wulf’s sake. And there’s still the matter of what to do about Lorna. It doesn’t sound like she’s gonna quit her little hobby, and with Wulf gone off to Heaven or wherever, it’s not like we can keep tabs on her forever.”

The four of them stared at one another for a moment before Sam shook his head.

“We should leave that up to Wulf.”

Dean blew out a breath and went to the filing cabinet in the corner. He rummaged around in the drawers and came back a moment later with a large thermos flask and an empty plant misting bottle, and set them both on the table.

“Fine. Wulf can decide what to do with her. As for freeing the trapped souls, choose your weapon.”

Sam stared at the unconventional and frankly disappointing containers hoping for one final spark of inspiration. They didn’t even have a squirt gun to consider as an option. Eventually he poured part of the potion into the spray bottle and filled the thermos with the rest of it.

“I am really hoping there’s just one stone,” Sam said as he wiped the spell bowl clean and packed it into his bag with the two containers. “It just seems more dignified and solemn to have a proper ritual and dunk it in a bowl rather than spraying the whole place down. We’re talking about human souls here. It just feels wrong freeing them like they were a beetle infestation.” He glared at the spray bottle again, shook his head, and zipped up the bag.

“We can definitely hope,” Dean muttered as they all trudged back to the garage.

Dean checked his weapons and added a few now that he wasn’t trying to stay incognito as a random picnicker in the park. It felt a hell of a lot better knowing exactly what they were facing, and exactly how to deal with it should it become a threat. He opened Baby’s trunk and picked out a gun loaded with witch killing bullets for good measure, and handed one to Cas, as well.

Ed had kept walking past the Impala toward Cas’s truck again, until Dean climbed behind Baby’s wheel. He glanced up at Sam, pointing toward the truck, and Sam shook his head as he got in the passenger seat.

“We’re going hunting now. No need to hide who we are.”

Ed frowned, but dutifully got in the back seat with Cas, the bag stocked with their spell equipment carefully nestled on the seat between them.

It wasn’t a long drive back to the park, but Dean charged Ed with keeping an ear on the radio, as much to give him something to do other than asking questions they didn’t have good answers for as to keep tabs on their quarry. Dean stopped about a mile out from the park so they could listen to Wulf’s climactic conjuration and banishment of yet another sad death echo. When it was clear that Lorna felt it had been a successful show, and both cameramen were taking turns showing her their footage, Dean gave a glance in the back seat to exchange a nod with Cas, and then glanced at Sam before throwing the car in gear and driving the final mile.

He didn’t bother trying to hide their entrance. Dean just pulled right up behind the camper and killed the engine as everyone bailed out. Cas took the bag and made for the camper as Sam crossed the lawn with his gun raised and pointed at Lorna. Dean ran around the car and caught up to Sam while Ed hung back vaguely covering the two cameramen. Wulf calmly watched from across the yard, as far as he could get from Lorna, and exchanged an encouraging nod with Cas as he slipped inside the trailer. Lorna herself hadn’t even noticed Cas, too focused on the ruckus of three armed men closing on her fast.

“What the hell…” she started, seeing the guns first and not really registering the people wielding them yet. “I have a permit to be here! This is a legitimate and official production!”

“Yeah, lady,” Dean said. “We don’t give a shit what kind of paperwork you have. It doesn’t authorize you to kidnap people.”

Lorna looked around at her cameramen, confused. “I… we’re all here of our own free will. We haven’t kidnapped anyone.”

“Tell that to all the people you have trapped in soul catcher crystals,” Sam countered.

Dean gave him a funny look before turning his attention back to Lorna, but muttering under his breath, “Told you it was the best name for ‘em.”

“Not the time, Dean,” Sam muttered back, as Lorna gave them a confused frown.

“You mean the ghosts?” She snorted derisively. “If you even believe ghosts are real, you can’t possibly believe they’re actually _people_.”

Sam took another few steps forward, and was finally far enough out of the shadows for Lorna to get a good look at him. As Dean moved up beside him, recognition dawned on her face.

“Wait, you guys were out here this afternoon, playing football.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we had a little cook out waiting for you to show up. We were trying to figure out how you were conjuring up the dead for your videos, and a little reaper told us your big secret.”

“Reaper? What the hell are you talking about? Is this some sort of joke?” She turned to the cameraman closest to her and asked, “Are you guys pranking me? Is this supposed to be some sort of Monty Python thing? Because I didn’t even have the salmon mousse.”

The first camera guy shook his head, perplexed, so she turned to the other guy, who looked like he was torn between raising his camera to film whatever the fuck was happening and making a run for it. Since she wasn’t getting the answers she expected, she turned her frown back on Dean.

“Okay, then, what do you want from me?”

“We got a list,” Dean said, “but we’ll start with you telling us how many soul catchers you got and how many people you got trapped in them.”

“Again, I’d beg to differ on your definition of ‘people,’” Lorna replied before her bravado ran out. “But can we at least dispense with the weapons? The only thing I have on me is a flashlight. I’m not gonna hurt anyone. I swear.”

“You’ve already hurt a lot of people,” Sam countered. “And yes, what you trapped in those stones are human souls. They are definitely people. So we’re gonna ask one more time. How many are there?”

“They’re _ghosts_.” Lorna insisted. “And there’s three stones. Well, four if you count the one I broke in half.”

Out the corner of his eye, Dean saw Wulf flinch at that and gritted his teeth together to keep from saying something regrettable to Lorna before they finished getting the information they needed from her.

“You broke one of them in half?” Dean asked through his clenched teeth.

“Yeah, I was experimenting. Got it all on film. Research, you know. It didn’t work. The ghosts didn’t come pouring out.” Lorna frowned at that. “I was starting to think the witch lady who sold me the rocks had cheated me out of five hundred bucks. She swore they’d work, but I haven’t been able to figure out how to make the ghosts reappear when I need them to.”

Sam stiffened by his side, and Dean was sure he was thinking the same thing he was. Would Rowena have actually sold something with that kind of power to someone like this? Dean sincerely hoped not, for Sam’s sake, but it was Sam who truly doubted it. He needed clarification anyway.

“Witch lady?” Sam asked. “Who, specifically?”

Lorna nodded, seemingly pleased that she could give them an answer. “Blonde chick and her two creepy daughters. Never got her name, but the girls kept calling her mother. I got a phone number if you wanna track ‘em down. Maybe you can get my money back, since you’re pretty good with the whole intimidation thing.”

Sam sighed with relief and muttered to Dean. “The three witches we nailed at Rowena’s place last year.”

Dean laughed at that. “Yeah, sorry to break it to you, but you’re gonna have a real hard time getting that refund.”

Her first reaction was anger over her lost money, before realizing that these guys with guns pointed at her were implying that they’d killed the witches she thought had swindled her, and didn’t seem any less inclined to do the same to her now. She finally raised her hands in surrender, understanding the extent of the danger she was in.

“Ooohkay, then. You clearly believe in all this hooey, and are seriously invested in getting your way here. There’s no need for violence. We can come to an arrangement.”

“The arrangement’s pretty straightforward,” Sam said, as Cas stepped out of the camper carrying the bronze spell bowl, now containing all of the soul catcher stones.

“This is all I was able to locate,” Cas said.

Dean peeked into the bowl and counted three whole stones and the broken shards of a fourth. He made a pained noise that only distantly approached the sound Wulf made as he walked over and inspected the stones. He lifted each of them carefully, closing his eyes as he held them one by one.

“Hey, what the hell is he doing?” Lorna asked, making a move toward Wulf to stop him.

“Take another step and I’ll shoot you in the foot,” Dean said, and Lorna froze in her tracks.

Cas ignored the kerfuffle and answered Lorna’s question. “He’s examining the status of the souls trapped inside. Give him just a moment.”

Lorna snorted. “Yeah, sure. A demonologist with a few good conjuring tricks up his sleeve is what, communing with the dead? Save it for the show, Wulf. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Wulf patiently finished his examination and carefully set the last stone back in the bowl. He gave Cas a grateful nod and then turned to Lorna, dropping the illusion that he was a mild-mannered guy in a turtleneck with an interest in spooky stuff and proving exactly who and what he was to her.

Ed, the only one of them who’d never gotten a real look at a reaper, made a choking sound, but to his credit he swallowed his fear and held firm. Meanwhile Wulf gave Lorna a good long look at the horror of his true form before resuming the mask she’d come to know.

Dean turned to Sam and mumbled, “They can pick any getup they want, and he chose that one.”

“You just miss Violet,” Sam snarked back.

Dean gave a little shrug at that and resumed his focus on Lorna.

“Violet sends her well wishes, by the way,” Wulf said. “I can hear you, you know. I’m still a celestial being.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I got that.”

Cas laughed at him, and if he hadn’t been holding the ceremonial bowl, looked like he really wanted to give Wulf a high five for his comment. Dean threw Cas a tentative grin, and Cas smiled back at him. Even Lorna noticed the awkward tension between them. It gave her a moment’s distraction while it took her a minute to process what she’d just witnessed. She finally registered that she was so far out of the loop of what was actually going on here, but it did help her to begin formulating better questions.

“What… what are you?”

“I’m a reaper,” Wulf replied. “I was bound to one of the souls you so ignorantly collected, and in trapping him, you inadvertently trapped me, as well.”

Lorna swallowed hard and slowly dropped her hands to her sides. She cast a nervous glance over at Dean, Sam, and Ed, their guns still trained on her, and then did her best to focus on Wulf. “I’m sorry about that. I had no idea. I swear I didn’t think I was holding anyone against their will.”

Wulf gave her a sad smile and shook his head. “You haven’t held me against my will. I could’ve left any time I wanted to, but I would not choose to do so while my… my dearest friend… while he was trapped in your stone prison.”

“Wait, I don’t have another reaper in one of those things…” she started, pointing vaguely at the bowl in Cas’s hands, unable to finish her question.

“No, as I said, I am bound to a human soul. I’ve existed for a very long time. Longer than humanity itself. I didn’t truly believe it was possible, having escorted so many millions of human souls to their final rest, to find one I cherished above them all. But I’ve been friends with Louis for most of his relatively long human life, and couldn’t bear to be parted from him in death. I was granted leave to remain with him, and the choice to give up much of what I have been for millions of years to stay with him forever. It was an easy choice then, and some part of me wondered if this was a final test of that choice…” Wulf trailed off, looking up at the stars twinkling overhead. “I could’ve called the big boss for help, and it would’ve been a choice to give Louis up and return to my duty, regain what I’d surrendered to be with him.”

“The… the big boss?” Lorna asked. “You mean God?”

Wulf snorted, Sam managed to hold back his laughter, but Dean let out a bark of a laugh.

“He’s retired, full benefits, and retains no rights to his work,” Dean replied. “He means Death, with a capital D.”

“He’s… he’s not coming, is he?” Lorna asked, sounding truly terrified for the first time.

“She,” Cas corrected. “And no, Wulf called us instead.”

Lorna bit her lip and nodded slowly. “So what happens now?”

“Well, first we’re going to free these trapped souls,” Cas began, holding up the bowl and then walking toward the picnic shelter.

“And then what? You’re just gonna let me go?”

“We haven’t really thought that far ahead yet,” Dean told her as Wulf fell in behind Cas. He waved his gun at Lorna, prompting her and her two stunned cameramen to follow after them. “We figured that was Wulf’s decision to make.”

Her eyes widened at that, and she looked nervously at the man she’d thought of as her associate for the last few months but who clearly now held her fate in his hands. Dean followed behind her as Sam and Ed brought up the rear.

“And honestly we’re not sure what’s gonna happen when that many angry souls bust outta prison all at once like that.” Dean added. “Wulf may not have to decide anything.”

“What do you mean, he won’t have to decide anything?”

Sam answered this time. “Some spirits have a strong urge for revenge. We’ll do what we can to stop them, but it’s impossible to know what will happen.”

Lorna made a high pitched whining sound, and Dean at least was satisfied that she understood how deeply screwed she was. For her sake, Sam took a bit of pity on her. She hadn’t acted out of malice, only ignorance. The end result was no different to the souls she’d trapped, but she was willing to make it right now, and that was something.

“We know you won’t have access to another soul catcher,” Sam said gently. “We know you understand what you did now, and wouldn’t try to do anything like this again.”

“Oh hell no,” she agreed emphatically. “I just wanna go back to what we used to do, before we ever ran across those witches.”

“Yeah, and what was that?” Ed asked. “Making a half-assed show about supposedly haunted places? Because let me tell you from personal experience, eventually you’re gonna stumble across something else that’s all too fucking real. If you’re gonna keep it up, at least educate yourself on it, and know what’s cool to broadcast and what you need to keep the fuck quiet about.”

“Yeah, that’s how Ed found you in the first place,” Dean added. “He recognized Wulf was the real deal, and put out the bat signal to bring us in on it.”

Lorna stopped just outside the picnic shelter while Cas and Wulf began setting up the ritual on the nearest table. “Wait, so something Wulf did on the show was too real? And brought you guys down on us?”

Dean nodded, stepping up beside her and finally putting away his gun. There was nowhere for her to run anymore. “And there’s more of us, all over the world. If you put the truth of what we do out there, one of us will hunt you down, and they may not be as understanding or patient as we’ve been.”

“I don’t even really know what you do, so consider it done,” Lorna said. “I started out doing a history podcast, and thought it might be fun to lean into the local ghost legends angle. I guess I got too carried away with the ghosts and forgot about the living history I should’ve been focusing on.”

“It can be tempting to linger on the ghosts in our past,” Cas replied, focusing on laying out everything for the spell. “The only way to fully come to terms with the past is to face it directly and learn to let it go. Otherwise we’re blind to what could be in the present, and what matters most as we move into the future. As the only person present older than Wulf, I can confidently say that life improves vastly when living in the present and holding on to what you truly love.”

Cas smiled up at Wulf, and Wulf smiled in return, nodding his complete understanding that Cas was addressing him, and understood his choice completely.

“Wait, are you a reaper, too?” Lorna asked into the stillness that had fallen over them all.

“No,” Cas replied, setting down the thermos bottle full of potion beside the bowl and giving Lorna his full attention. “I was an angel. I watched the universe coalesce from atoms. I saw the first reapers emerge, because where there is life there must be death. I believed I was created to bear witness to the eternal cycles of the universe, to stand guard over creation from above and observe my Father’s work. And then, after billions of years, I was ordered to save a singular soul from Perdition.”

He paused and looked at Dean, who stood as rapt as any of them as Cas continued. “Hester was right. The moment I touched your soul, I was lost to Heaven. But I was found in every other possible way. Nothing in billions of years could compare to what I’ve grown to be in the last twelve years.”

Dean just nodded dumbly at this, but Wulf’s smile broadened.

“This is exactly why I hoped you’d come. You understand more than anyone else ever could what I have experienced myself.”

Wulf and Cas exchanged a glance, and Cas nodded at him.

“May you find as much joy and contentment with Louis as I have found, in case we don’t get another chance to talk.”

“Thank you, Castiel.” Wulf turned to Lorna. “And if you survive the next few minutes, I trust that these fine people will help guide you into your future.”

Lorna looked as if she were about to say something, but then just shook her head. Eventually she gave Wulf the only thing she had left. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, at least on my behalf. I can’t speak for them,” Wulf added, waving a hand over the stones. “I think it’s time for them to have their say.”

Cas looked to Dean in case there was anything else that needed clearing up.

“Uh… should we be filming this?” one of the cameramen asked.

“That seems like a bad idea,” Lorna replied.

“Might be a good idea to take a few giant steps back, though,” Dean recommended.

Sam hesitated for a moment, but then went for the duffel bag with all their gear and pulled out a box of salt and held it up for Dean to see. Dean shrugged.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Dean said, and Sam walked over to Lorna and her crew.

“Whatever you do, stay inside this circle,” Sam told them as he walked around them pouring out a line of salt. “Depending on how many of them you have trapped, and how angry they are, this might not hold them long. But hopefully it’ll be enough.”

Lorna gave him a resigned nod and steeled herself for whatever would happen next. Sam went to stand by Dean, hopefully out of the direct line of fire of whatever was about to come pouring out of the soul catcher stones, and the two of them watched as Cas and Wulf began the spell. Cas chanted the incantation and poured the potion over the stones in the bowl, and Wulf watched on with his hands held out to either side of the bowl, as if he were holding a much larger invisible bowl. Or like he could catch all the freed souls in his hands before they could slip away. He was a reaper, so maybe that wasn’t too far fetched a notion.

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d half expected dozens of souls to come exploding out of the stones all at once. He’d faced down hordes of angry spirits more times than he could count, but he’d never seen an orderly procession of them before.

The first souls released looked around at one another, and then saw Wulf with his hands extended toward them in welcome and ran into his embrace. As he took them in his arms they faded until only softly glowing balls of light remained and then disappeared entirely. Wulf smiled in satisfaction that they’d gone to their intended destinations at last, and welcomed the next group. Soul after soul materialized from the stones and lined up for the warm embrace of the afterlife. Dean noticed only a few even bothered to cast Lorna a single glance, let alone rush at her with any intended vengeance.

Cas maintained the spell, continuing the chant until the stream of emerging souls slowed to a trickle. Wulf took each of them in turn until the spectral crowd had nearly entirely dissipated. At long last, the final soul to emerge stood a foot from Wulf and simply grinned at him. The man looked young, not the old man Wulf had described to them. But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was Louis.

“Was this your doing, Louis?” Wulf asked with a cheeky grin at his friend.

Louis raised an eyebrow at him and tapped his forehead. “Psychic, remember? I knew what you were planning, knew how we all ended up where we were, and kept everyone else calm. I knew you would save us.”

Wulf closed the distance between them and gripped Louis in a tight hug. Unlike the other souls, Louis only seemed to grow stronger, more solid, in the embrace. They pulled back after a moment and looked into each other’s eyes.

“Did you really hand in your resignation letter?” Louis asked.

Wulf nodded. “Not so much a letter, as a book. Billie looked at mine and read my ending. Turns out destiny can be rewritten.”

Louis stared at him, hesitated for just a second, and then dove in for a kiss. It was brief, but joyous, and ended with the two of them standing together, foreheads touching, and a look of utter contentment on both their faces.

“I have been waiting far too long for that,” Louis said.

Wulf snorted. “Not as long as I have.”

It was Sam who broke up their reunion, but Dean completely understood the moment he managed to get his question out.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, we’re all very happy for you both, but… uh… I have a question.” Sam hesitated, giving them both an apologetic smile as they turned to him. “I… I just need to know what it was like in there. What being trapped in that stone was like.”

Sam frowned, and then looked down at the spent crystals on the table. Dean knew he was thinking about what he almost did to Eileen’s soul. It was their worst case scenario, last ditch plan to save her soul from Hell, but they’d never had to actually go through with it. If they had, though…

“It wasn’t so bad,” Louis replied kindly. “Maybe a little crowded, but it didn’t seem unlike the descriptions of Heaven that Wulf has shared with me.”

Sam’s eyes widened at that, and he nodded.

“I can tell you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Louis added, proving he was as powerful a psychic as any they’d met. “Your friend wouldn’t have been unhappy there.”

Sam let out a huge breath, and simply said, “Thank you.”

“Now that’s all settled,” Wulf said. “What do you say to a proper retirement?”

Louis grinned at him and held out his hand. “I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go.”

Wulf took his hand, and then turned to Lorna. “I hope you understand what you’ve done, now.”

Lorna nodded slowly, still unable to say anything.

“It’s fine, Wulf,” Louis told him. “She understands.”

“Thank you all, again,” Wulf said, looking from Ed to Sam to Dean and finally to Cas. “And good luck with your future endeavors. If there’s ever anyone in Heaven I can give a message to on your behalf, just give me a call.” A grin spread across his face, and he and Louis disappeared.

Dean looked at Cas and said, “Well I guess that’s it, then.”


	7. Chapter 7

Lorna wasn’t fit to drive after her ordeal, but one of her cameramen promised to get them out of there while the other insisted on making her a cup of tea. They trundled out of town without a second look back, with the warning from Ed that he would be keeping an eye on their future activities. As they disappeared over the horizon, Ed had a few thoughts to share.

“So this is what you guys have been up to all these years.” He shook his head as Sam packed up the remnants of their spell. “I’m honestly glad I never caught a glimpse of any of this back then. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have taken it as well as Lorna did.”

Sam snorted, hefting the bag that now contained a collection of defunct but still heavy soul catcher stones over his shoulder. “I sorta remember you getting a good look at a tulpa and running for the hills. Man, you guys could’ve made it all go away just by posting the info we tried to pass you to your site.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Ed replied. “Tulpas were one of the first things I read up on when I learned the truth. Why do you think I keep an eye out on all the hucksters posting paranormal videos?” Ed paused for a moment. “You know, you guys could’ve just told us what was up back then. You didn’t have to fake us out like that.”

Dean made an undignified noise that passed as a laugh. “Yeah, but would you have believed us, or thought we were just trying to scare you off to horn in on your big story, or whatever?”

Ed considered that for a second and then shrugged. “Fair point. But at least we took that page down from the site after you guys burned the house down. No house, no ghost, no story… and web hosting services aren’t free.”

“At least not when you’re trying to stay on the up and up,” Sam added. “So what are you gonna do now? You wanna stick around for a few days? Maybe explore the archives a bit and see what else you’ve ben missing out on all these years?”

“Don’t listen to him, Ed,” Dean threw in. “Exploring the archives is code for helping him figure out which shit in there is deadly, and which is just a pain in the ass.”

Ed gave him a look like he was trying to figure out just how serious Dean was, and shook his head. “Nah, after that I think there’s a few people I need to have a few long conversations with.”

“Do you have unresolved interpersonal issues?” Cas asked. “Because I can tell you from my own experience that you should never let anything stand in the way of open, honest communication with your loved ones. Even when the conversations are difficult.”

Sam and Ed both froze as they were about to get in the car and stared at each other for a second before slowly turning to Cas. Dean didn’t even notice anything strange as he started the engine and Cas settled into his usual spot in the back seat. He hadn’t been privy to Sam and Ed’s conversation the night before, or all the significant looks they’d exchanged since. Dean glanced in the rear view mirror and caught Cas’s eye. His voice was barely louder than the engine’s rumble when he spoke.

“As soon as we get home, Cas. Promise.”

Cas nodded at him and smiled contentedly as Ed and Sam got in the car. The drive back to the bunker was quiet until they were nearly there.

“You guys think you could drop me off by my van?” Ed asked. “I think I’m gonna get back on the road tonight. I can probably make it to Wisconsin by dawn if I start driving now.”

“Sure about that?” Dean asked, slowing at the foot of their driveway and double parking beside the van. “You’re welcome to the real bed for another night. We won’t even make you look in the archives. We should at least have a celebratory drink for the road.”

Ed shook his head and opened the door, collecting up his gear. “I’ve imposed on you guys too much already. Thank you again for your help. For believing in me. And for like… everything.”

Dean gave him a nod. Sam reached back and offered Ed his hand. Ed gave it a tight squeeze.

“You ever need our help again, you know where to find us,” Sam said.

“Yeah, and maybe best keep that information quiet,” Dean reminded him. “Most things that want to find us don’t take no for an answer.”

Ed nodded and got out of the car. “Don’t I know it. Take care, guys.”

Dean waited until he’d climbed behind the wheel and then pulled up the front driveway. He shut off the car and was about to get out, but Sam stopped him.

“Dean? Can I talk with you for a sec?”

Cas hesitated in the back seat with one foot already out of the car. Dean gave him a go-ahead nod, and Cas gave him an encouraging smile and got out. As soon as the door was shut and Cas had moved around to the trunk to retrieve their gear, Dean turned to Sam.

“What’s on your mind?”

Sam bit his lip and fidgeted in his seat, glancing over his shoulder at the raised trunk lid out the rear window. When he finally spoke, it was quiet.

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I know you Dean, and even after something like this when he practically lays down an engraved invitation for you, sometimes you just won’t pick it up. You think you’re not good enough, or you have some stupid idea about yourself or your life that stops you from doing anything to make yourself happy. Whatever, the reason’s not important.” Sam paused again, glancing up at Dean’s confused face before looking back down at his hands and hurrying on before he lost his momentum, or courage. “Just… don’t do that this time. You deserve better. Hell, _he_ deserves better than that. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re probably a hopeless case anyway at this point. Just… know I’d be happy for both of you.”

Dean sat there for a minute, and then finally shook his head when it was clear that was all Sam had to say. So much for him and Cas taking Sam inside and sitting him down to lay this all out for him as a united front. He was completely thrown. The speech he’d been reworking over and over in his head for weeks, eating away at him trying to find just the right words to make it absolutely clear how he and Cas felt about each other… all of that just went out the window. Dean did the only thing he could, and laughed.

“It’s not funny, Dean,” Sam said, finally looking over at his brother losing his shit behind the steering wheel. “Cas spelled it out for you pretty damn clearly, and you still think this is some sort of joke?”

Dean gasped for breath and wiped his eyes, and then turned to Sam while desperately trying to compose his face.

“I’m not laughing at you, or at him, Sam. I’m laughing at this whole fucked up situation.”

“I’m pretty sure Cas wouldn’t be laughing,” Sam said sulkily.

“Nah, he’s gonna think this is hilarious.” Dean gave Sam a moment to process that, and then went on. “He didn’t say any of that for _me_ tonight. I already knew all that. You know, we’ve been meaning to have this little talk with you for weeks now, but shit kept happening and we didn’t want it to seem like an afterthought, telling you. We were planning to tell you last night after dinner, until Ed called. And honestly, we both thought you’d figured it out on your own, anyway. It’s not like we were trying to hide it.”

Sam’s face morphed through a progression of concern into utter bafflement as Dean talked. By the time he was done, Sam was in full frown and his eyebrows had nearly joined up in the middle.

“Hide what?”

Dean ran a hand down his face and took a fortifying gulp of air. “How did you not notice? We spend practically every minute of the day together now.”

Sam muttered. “How is this different from… ever?”

Dean ignored him and went right on. “We’ve been taking pretty much all our hunts alone for weeks now.”

“You’ve been giving me a chance to get caught up on the archiving in peace…” Sam countered, but it was half-hearted at best.

“He lives in my room, for fuck’s sake. How did you not notice that?”

Sam blinked at him. “Since when? Cas has his own room. How was I supposed to know he wasn’t using it?”

Dean shrugged. I just figured it was obvious. Ever notice we both say goodnight together, like… every night for the last month?”

“But… you’re both still so weird around each other… how…”

Dean snorted. “What, you expected us to magically become different people just because we got our personal shit together? We are who we are, Sammy, and we’re both good with that.”

Sam nodded slowly at that, and Dean wondered if they were done with this ridiculous conversation.

“One more thing,” Sam said, as Dean was about to get out of the car again. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“What were we supposed to say?” Dean replied with a shrug. “At first we didn’t want to say anything because it was weird and new and we were still figuring it out ourselves. Then we didn’t want to say anything because we were always running out for a hunt, and you were worried about Rowena, and we didn’t want it to be weird and uncomfortable, or a distraction. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing you just throw out there causally and then go chasing after monsters. It’s not casual, and it’s not something we’re ashamed of or trying to hide. It was just too important _not_ to make a big deal out of it.” Dean grinned at him. “Guess Cas took care of the heavy lifting on making that clear tonight. Now I gotta think of a creative way to repay him for that.”

Sam’s entire face fell at Dean’s suggestive smirk. “Oh no, I don’t even wanna know.” He fumbled for the door handle and got out of the car as fast as possible, tripping over his own feet like a baby moose trying to get himself coordinated. “Why did I even bother trying to help you out again?”

“Because you love love, Sam,” Dean replied, grinning as he got out of the car and made his way over to where Cas was waiting by the stairs. He grabbed his bag out of the trunk and slammed it shut, and then threw his arm around Cas’s shoulders, admiring the look of surprised delight on Cas’s face as he did.

“I take it Sam knows?” Cas asked, appreciating the show as Sam finally regained his balance and shut the door.

“Sam knows,” Dean assured him. “It’s kina cute. He was trying to give me a lecture on how big an idiot I was if I ignored your little speech at the park tonight and kept on pretending we didn’t have feelings for each other. He was like… defending your honor or some shit. I think he gets points for that.”

Cas nodded solemnly as Sam stood there blushing and flustered. “I appreciate the sentiment, Sam. But I can assure you that Dean is entirely aware of my feelings for him, and has been for some time now.”

Sam shrugged. “Good, I guess. It’s all good.”

“So if we have all that squared away, and we’re all good with it, what say we take the rest of the night off? I hear there’s a ton of ghost hunter shows we could watch.”

“You take that back,” Sam said, heading down the stairs to unlock the front door. “No ghosts, no paranormal shit at all for at least twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours? That’s it?” Dean asked.

“Look at our lives, Dean,” Sam replied. “Just walking through our front door is technically paranormal shit. We live in paranormal shit central, and we’ve got work to do. But it can wait until after breakfast, at least.”

“How about GBBO, then? Watch a bunch of people make cake for an hour or two.”

Sam shook his head and didn’t even look back at them as he descended the stairs into the war room. “I think I’m just gonna hit the hay. You two have fun, though.” He finally stopped before disappearing down the hall and turned back to frown at them. “But like… not _too_ much fun. Remember I still live here, too.”

Dean doubled over laughing at that, while Cas stood bemused by his side. “Sam, you didn’t even notice us for more than a month. Trust me, you’ll continue to live.”

Sam grimaced at them, shook his head, and waved at them over his shoulder as he trudged off to his room. Dean dropped his gear bag on the table, and Cas followed suit. He turned to Cas with a smile.

“So, how _am_ I gonna show my appreciation for you for tonight?”

Cas looked at him like he wasn’t sure what Dean was referring to. “The same way you do every night?”

Dean grinned at him and led him off toward their room.

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again everyone! Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, you can still find me over on the tumbls where I'll probably still be yelling about this show long after it's over. I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com).


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